Common

If I had any sense at all, I would have run from this man with gunsmoke in his mouth and a dirty scowl on his face, but I did not. I had no sense, just a whole basketful of panic, and absolutely no idea where I was supposed to be going. This wasn't like home. There were no clear alleyways between neat pastures. No bright red gates with their cling-clangy chains to pass through. In fact, there were no fences at all to hold me in… but rather than finding this invigorating, I found it terrifying. Who was going to keep me safe from the monsters that prowled through the night, sending skittering plastic bags to take me by surprise in the morning?

And, more importantly, who the heck was going to bring me my grain?

Kee, he said, as I watched his face intently, balancing my worry over this whole goshdarn scenario with the fact that I still had a very LARGE stallion only inches from me. I scanned his face anxiously for any scrap of change - good or bad - that would tell me if I'd made the right decision by saying yes.

His face was… inscrutable. It was like at the closed barn door, hoping it would open and the two-leggeds would return with grain. He gave nothing away until suddenly he jerked his head toward me and I flinched again, my body seizing reflexively as I pulled back from staring at him. Whoops.

Jst wan? … A let? Dang it, more questions. I try again to decipher the strange sounds he makes, knowing that it's a question I am supposed to answer… somehow. Wan? Like a swan? The noisy, honky bird things that came to our pond every year? No, that didn't make any sense. Gritting my teeth, I duck my gaze away from his scowling face, wishing I could just tap my hoof and make it make sense. He speaks again, softer this time, and as my gaze flicks toward him, I realize he has gotten closer. I try not to flinch. I try, but my skin still quivers beneath his gaze and I catch myself leaning back away from him without moving my feet.

Muir komflickated? Again with the questions. For a moment I forget myself, and a small huff of frustration flutters the ashen edges of my nostrils before reality filters in and I cast a furtive glance at the stallion, worried I had offended him. I tear my gaze away from him and cast it back toward the ocean, trying to figure out how to explain that I needed to go back there, back home. I know it's somewhere out there, beyond the waves, and if I could just figure out how to go back, maybe I could return? Except, the memory of the ocean closing over my head - hungry and dark and claustrophobic in its neediness - made me shudder with revulsion and I turned back toward him quickly.

So if not the ocean, how was I supposed to explain that I was trying to get back to humans?

I could pantomime them…. But would he even know what I meant? He didn't look as if anyone had ever brushed out his mane, let alone put a cloth thingy over him to protect him from the sun. Even if I could somehow rise up and flail my legs, I still wouldn't have any grabby-things like they did. I sigh, my frustration mounting, and consider my options. If mimicking the human walk was out, maybe I could mimic something else they did?

Without pausing to let myself think about it too much, I reached out hesitantly for the long strings of his mane. I wanted to be confident about this, the same way that the people were, but I trembled as I got closer, my eyes rolling as I watched him for any sudden movement. I almost miss it - but eventually I gather what amounts to two small strands from either side of his face in my mouth, and tug him forward as if he'd been collared. One little tug is all I manage before I scramble back from him, desperately hoping to see recognition in his face.

homeless . loveinspired