Falls

He watched the young filly intently from the corner of his eye, assessing her quietly as one would assess any specimen under a microscope. He had the unfortunate (or perhaps not so unfortunate) habit of cataloging the world around him in a decidedly detached fashion. He noted especially the downy quality of her inky fur, feeling a tickle of misplaced recognition in the banks of his memory palace. Mischa... it breathed, sending an involuntary shudder down the pale stallion’s spine. It had been many, many years since he had allowed those thoughts to escape and he’d be damned if they did it again any time soon. The maroon eyes squeezed tight for a moment as he willed his nerves back under his controlled grasp. He had not come this far, quite literally now, to allow any sort of weakness.

Inhaling deeply, the stallion’s eyes flickered open once more, only to catch an eyeful of pale, cream hide sliding between himself and the young filly. Judging from the hostile expression and territorial body language, the stallion knew instantly that he had inadvertently angered the proverbial mother bear. Flicking his ears back at the mare’s tone, he drew himself to his full height and turned to face her head on. He regarded her as such for a span of moments, a mixture of irritation and amusement cavorting about in his skull before he answered.

“No one sinister, I assure you,” he replied, his faint accent gliding through a fainter smile, “I apologize for frightening you; I meant your child no harm.” He was sincere in the last, at least, but he was innately curious to know why the lady feared a strange face so deeply.