The day was crisp and quiet, carrying the subtle sounds of the world through the air. Trees were bare of leaves, furthering the ease of which perception hit the senses. Zimri’s ears flicked at the sounds of trotting hooves approaching. The flesh under her skin trembled, unsure of who was in the shadows, or what they would have wanted from her. Even as Ruger’s scent hit her nose, she hesitated before going to him. With nothing and nowhere to hide, she stood in her shame, head lowered and turned away though she longed to press herself against him to keep away the cold.

Rachanna, on the other hand, did not have such reservations about her father! She glanced at her dam for a moment before braying happily and trotting towards the stallion. Ears forward and joy in her springy step, she completely set aside what she had nearly witnessed and what she had actually seen. Her father was standing once again. Yet again he proved his strength to her, and once again showed her what she could live up to be. The filly did not, could not, understand the tension between her parents.

Smiling at Rachanna’s enthusiasm for returning to her father’s side, Zimri’s dark eyes finally did look up into the amber gaze of the stallion she had met a year ago. She was taken aback by what she saw and what she felt. Back in that fall she had innocently let her curiosity get the better of her, chance a moment of trust in a kind word and a beautiful view. Looking at Ruger now, she realized he had led her down a path that rained down the worst abuse she had suffered so far. A year and a half ago Zimri would have run. She would have taken flight, never stopped, and never looked back. But now, looking at him, he came to her as if she were the one to land the blows. Her own ears flicking uncertainly, she could not stop her heart continue to tug towards the man who had seduced her into trusting. He had never been the one to throw the hoof. Just as she could not stop the warmth she felt towards him, her stomach turned with the feeling of the memory of what he had brought her to.

Uncertain, and possibly just as scared as he was, she stepped forward, her nose outstretched to his, breathing in his musky scent. She still cared for him, still felt joy at seeing him and his miniature mirror image. It was he who both saved her and cursed her.

“Please, tell me this did not happen on purpose. Please explain to me why.” She did not know why this came to her, but she did know she was growing tired of being unsure, tired of being scared.