He tried to escape -- at least, that’s how it looked from her perspective, and she wasn’t having it! He bounced and turned and that was when she was forced to let go of him, or risk ripping an unintended hole, leaving her with a mouthful of hair. Moments later, he stood as tall as his powerful legs would allow, his inky mane catching the golden morning light in a wild splash of thick tassels. It was a sight to behold, in truth; and she’d give another squeal as she tossed her head as well and would thrust herself upright. The timing was impeccable, for when his form came barrelling down, his chest would crash against her own, and for the briefest of times, they’d be able to support one another.

Aside, her neck would crane to angle her mouth just right to deliver an equally as playful (if a little rough) nip upon his neck. This was as short-lived as the way their bodies supported and suspended the other. He thudded down, and she followed suit. In an instant, however, she was in motion again. Now it was her time to pivot and turn, leaping aside, idle threads of foliage slinging this way and that from the muddy padding that clings to the underside of her hooves. She’d flex and arch her neck with the motion, forcing her head to dip down towards her knees, as her back-end would lift in a harmless kick. Her mane and tail flared and snapped with the abruptness of her flight.

The nameless blue mare ensured that she was far enough away as to not catch the stud with her energetic, spirited kick; it was a build-up of energy that matched the tone of her mood. She couldn’t remember the last time another had built her spirit up in such a manner, and she was taking full advantage.


But she didn’t stop, nor turn to face him. Instead, she darted further into the depths of the Bay. Of course, she doesn’t necessarily know where she’s headed -- for all she knew, she barrelled herself in the direction of his herd. It didn’t matter to her, though. She wanted to prance and stretch out her little legs. Her strides are not feverish and aggressive; Fell was more than capable of matching, and even outpacing the blue mare, should he desire it. But then, this was no secret to him; it was within his literal coding to drive, which meant having the stamina to keep pace with an elusive mare.

The messengers of the gods had been right, all along. This was precisely where she needed to be. She would never doubt the validity of the ravens after this experience that had led to a moment of much-needed levity in a lifetime of solitude and strife.