As Dracaena stared down the pale stallion, several things happened at once. First she noticed the tear in his ear. Then there was a crash of leaves and twigs all around her.
Dracaena stiffened and whipped her head about, thick blonde mane flying in every direction, to see that two mares had appeared. One was the infamous red mare, and the other Dracaena did not recognize, though judging by her scent she had lived in the Ridge for some time. She did not know either of their names, though she had no desire to learn them. Both were covered in leaf litter, as though they had rushed through the trees to get here, and Dracaena's stomach tightened with irritation. Had they followed her?
She shifted in place, aware suddenly that the sunlight at her back would be illuminating the silver scars that marred her dark coat.
"Gottverdammt," Dracaena muttered with her ears flat atop her head, just as the red mare announced that they should return to the ridge. She barked a harsh laugh in response. "The little princess thinks we should all go home." Her dark eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to continue berating the red mare, but then the stallion moved. Her face hot with irritation, Dracaena watched as he first greeted the red mare with a silent, familiar touch which confirmed that they knew one another, and then as he turned to the scared-looking black mare. He acted familiar toward her, too, which surprised Dracaena. Was she one another of Vodnik's prizes?
She listened as he spoke, her ears still splayed flat against her tangled mane and her face creased with a sour frown. "Little boy," she said as soon as he had finished speaking, her accent crisp and clear, "What gives you the impression that I am here against my will? Not all of us are so weak that we are herded like sheep."
Dracaena cast a meaningful glance at each of the mares in turn.
DRACAENA
four; flaxen liver chestnut sabino; 15.1hh |