Ava’s legs trembled as she found her feet again, but she managed to steady herself somewhat as she dragged her gaze up from the sandy ground. The grey Arabian she had met at the herd meeting stood before her, a frown on her face. She could feel the other mare’s eyes on her wounds, and she looked away in shame, her green wet with tears. Though she didn’t know the Arabian well, her manner was authoritative and somewhat intimidating – the last thing she wanted to do in front of her was look weak. This was supposed to be a new start, where no one looked at her with pity as they had come to do in the past. That was no longer possible she supposed. After what seemed like an eternity under the other woman’s gaze, the grey seemed to come to some kind of decision and ventured closer, coming to walk beside her. At first Ava made to turn away from the mare when she offered her nose in gentle greeting, but she stopped herself and bumped her own muzzle against the Arabian’s. It was a wordless action, but somehow it comforted her. Her words were less gentle, however. The Arabian had a blunt way of speaking, though she was quick enough to infer what had happened by herself. When Ava tried to respond, her throat seemed to collapse in upon itself, and by the time she managed to force the choked words out they were shaky and distorted by her tears. “I-I d-don’t know,” she stuttered. “H-he thought I was someone else. He was mad.” The sobs swallowed her voice before she could say any more. |