Over the wash of surf rumbles another voice, something a little more mortal, and Reef turns her head to it. A stallion strides down the beach. He looks like a pearl newly tumbled from the ocean, or sea-foam upon four legs, but as he draws near and extends his rosy muzzle toward her she scents only stallion. Hello... he says, and she can see the light in his eyes belies the modest curve of his lips. Her black muzzle bumps his, the corner of her mouth tapping the edge of his smile in a coy little kiss— she smells the sun on his breath and wants a taste.
His question draws a warm chuckle from her as she pulls her head back. "Oh, no," Reef replies, her gaze lingering on his, and she fails to suppress a smile of her own as she adds, "Not at all." She is quite at home with her hooves mounding the sand, salt packed into each curve and hollow of her skin, admiring a stallion dressed in pearlskin. Her eyes wander freely down his face, open and curious, flitting from his blue eyes to the flat planes of his cheeks and back again like the tide sleeking itself against the shore—until hoofbeats herald the arrival of another, and her attention streams away to become a river washing over the dark stone-stallion who joins them.
Like a stone, he stands unmoved by their social current. The cadence of his speech is different, lilting, and his words fall together like pebbles settling in a palm. Reef stretches her head toward him, wondering if she were to lick him, would he taste of shaded granite, cool and rough under her tongue? Or is he slick, mossy like the boulder anchored firmly in the riverbed, unmoved by wind or water as he collects time?
"An island," she repeats, her voice gone warm on the word, delighted to learn that every edge of this place is touched by sand and salty sea. "Are the storms so bad, that we should hide from them? I don't mind a little rain." Her attention flows to the thunderhead just as lightning threads its way through the clouds. The sea below it must be churning, for the wind has picked up and blows her salt-frayed forelock across her eyes. No doubt the waves will be fierce. Perhaps another tree will join the one stranded on the beach. "It might be fun to watch," she adds, and thunder cracks overhead. It's much closer this time than the first peal and she spooks, jolting to one side before she checks herself and laughs. Reef looks from one stallion to the other —strangers to her but not each other. Here she pools, poised between dark and light, submerged in the satisfaction that whatever is to come, it's sure to be interesting. |