The peace the former warrior found among the trees was short-lived, interrupted quickly by the presence of another. He raised his head incrementally higher, roving his golden eyes over the inky surface of the strange woman's coat. It was as dark as a starless midnight sky, interrupted only by the silvery sheen of scars that adorned her breast and hip. They were a startling interruption in the charcoal canvas of her body. He wondered, briefly, how she got them. Had she been a fighter like him, or had a far more cruel fate inflicted those wounds upon her? He wanted to ask but he knew it was so incredibly rude, he bit back any questions and asked instead, with some edge to his tone, "then why are you staring at me?"
Honestly, Osmanthus never expected to be the object of someone's attention, much less while he was doing nothing but laying in the dirt and sleeping. Surely there was no one less exciting, and yet here this mare was looking down at him like he some joke had been told, or she had some amusing secret dancing behind her lips that she refused to loose on him. Under most other circumstances it might have been aggravating as all get out, but now the draft could only bring himself to feel mildly irritated.
Part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, anyway. So he clambered to his hooves and grunted out, "Never mind." before setting about removing the leaves and litter from the thick hair of his tail. He paused only once to look back at the spot the mare stood, half-expecting her to have vanished now that he'd woken up and given her a less-than-pleasant greeting. But she was still standing by the edge of his tiny clearing which prompting the champagne stallion to demand, "Why are you still here?"
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