Common

as I wandered the forest, the green leaves among, i heard a wild flower singing a song

petal does not envy the sister of the stallion. something about him seems too…erratic. controlling. she has obvious doubts as to the truth of his story but whether or not there is anything thing they can do to alleviate the situation, she knows nothing good can come of prodding him further about it now. the way his eyes flicker back and further between her and vita nova makes her anxious but she does her best not to show the discomfort she feels. she lets her gaze rest on him, her eyes neutral, safe, no warmth but no hint of the ice inside either. they are moments away from walking away from him unscathed and she prefers that route. her heart does lurch when vita nova glances her way, sure she has offended the more outgoing bold mare by insinuating they should lay low.

her whole life she has struggled making friends, she has always been too quiet, too odd, and too much of a “pretty face.” she has always felt like the small glowing flame when a fire first starts, tentative and new, always delicately testing the air this way and that but too easily smothered to turn into a raging force. she can’t help but feel the slightest tinge of jealousy as she watches vita nova goad the painted stud further by calling him your majesty… she is reckless and brave. before she can help it a timid smile creeps to her features. maybe this friendship will be just what she needs.

she remains quiet, nodding along with vita nova’s answer although she was likely as surprised as warsaw to hear that many of the islands were now lead by mares. it sounds like somewhat of a revolution has occurred in her absence. she wonders if the darker mare is part of this movement, having no idea really where she was staying. something about the idea of living with a herd of mares makes her cringe. having been put down her whole life by those of the female sex she wonders how petty feelings don’t get in the way of important matters. her father had been a powerful and strong protector of his herd. could a mare really be the same way? these questions swirled in her head, distracting her momentarily. finally she pulls back, realizing that perhaps she should interject and answer his question. there are still many traditional herds as well…one of which i belong to… the lie clinks out, settling clumsily in the air between them. the word belong is still a point of great contention for her. she flicks one pale golden ear in vita nov’s direction before speaking again. she hopes the conversation is drawing to a close. pleasure meeting you Warsaw.

p e t a l

mare : 5 : perlino dun : arabian mustang mutt : 13.3 : kafkaesque

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