Common

Out of the corner of her eye, movement.

Celestine half turned her head, her eye rolling lazily to watch the incoming stallion. He was shorter than her, shale-colored, with white markings similar to her own that made him appear as though he walked through white paint. She took note of how the chill air lifted his two-toned mane off his muscled neck — but realized that this was because he was coming at her quite fast, and not because the air was moving at all. Not a breath of wind stirred the heavy snow flakes drifting languidly through the air, and yet, for all the stillness around them, she could hardly hear his approach.

The stallion did not stop, and Celestine did not move as he reached her, slowing only when his thickly-furred side pressed against her own. The moment she felt the heat of his body against hers, her ears, which had been trained on him with calm alertness and stood out against the white of her mane, disappeared beneath the alabaster strands. It wasn’t that she was shocked, or even that she disliked the unknown stallion’s touch, but he needed to be taught a lesson for the assumption that he could do such a thing.

Despite the warmth of the grey-brown stallion, and despite the electric (and not entirely unpleasant) sting of his teeth against her withers, Celestine retaliated explosively. As the stranger’s jaws retreated from her skin and he began to push, the spotted mare bunched the muscles of her hindquarters, transferred her substantial weight to her back hooves, and shoved.

As the young stallion moved away from her, whether by the force of her thrust or from an attempt to get out of her way, Celestine pivoted to face him. Her hooves stirred the snow around her into a flurry, and she reared up entirely, glaring down at him with hard, cold eyes.

But then she dropped gracefully down again, her dark ears peaking once more from the shroud of her mane, and her eyes glinted with amusement rather than fury. She was confident that her lesson had been taught, and if this boy did not catch on, she would simply teach him again. But there was no need to scare him away entirely — he was quite handsome, and this was, after all, what she had been looking for: some excitement.

“You’ll have to be a little more persuasive than that,” she sang, her voice like the toll of a great bell: musical, rich, and powerful. It carried easily despite the sound-dampening effects of the snow, and following it was an equally musical laugh. “Or, maybe not,” she continued. “Maybe I’m curious today.” She stepped closer to the young stallion, her head lowering slightly so that her dark muzzle could linger close to his as she blew softly into his nose. “You could certainly be more polite, though.”

Retreating back to her own space once more, Celestine looked at him expectantly. “Well, take me home, then, handsome stranger,” she requested, lifting her head proudly and giving her tail a single heavy swish against her spotted hindquarters. “And tell me your name on the way.”

“Speech”