B O N D U R A N T
Shame, it radiated out of his very being. It was a heinous act he had committed, something he could not take back. As he drug himself from the cold grasp of the ocean he was unsure of what to do. He craned his head around to watch the fawn-colored girl draw up behind him. She was so petite, so fragile, and yet he had taken her. The season had changed quickly, almost overnight, and with it came the Scent. So overpowering it could destroy a man’s willpower in the blink of an eye.
And so it had happened to him. He had ventured to the crossing innocently, merely seeking to expand his social circle beyond the boundaries of the forest. Then he had found her there, grazing calmly amongst the still green grasses. He had watched her for a while from the shelter of a few trees, noting her small form, the fidgety movements, and yet she was still so calm regardless of everything. It was the change of wind that was his ruin. It shifted suddenly and during his silent vigil the Scent of her hit him full on and off guard. He felt the need rise up in him, his pupils dilating and pure, unadulterated instinct gnawing at his conscious.
For a moment he tried to fight it, railed against the emotions that could so easily overwhelm him, but as he glanced back at her once more he knew the fight was futile. He approached, willing every step to be slow and calculated so he wouldn’t frighten her, all the while snorting and making a chewing motion with his mouth. Only when he was close enough did he stretch out his spotted nose, running up along her neck and down to her withers where his lips pulled back from his yellow teeth and he had claimed her.
He did not stop there, could not stop himself, and he had covered her then and there in front of god and everyone. Afterward, after the need had fled him and the deed had been done, the shame began. It turned him from strong and willful to a chastised child. Nudging her rump gently he guided her to the sea and then onwards to Luthien.
Perhaps he was a monster, the thing to be feared that lurked within the shadows of the frightful forest. Head low he beckoned her forward and trod into the shelter of the trees. Slowly he led her from the sparsely sheltered beach into the heart of the land, maneuvering beneath the towering structures so that she might easily find her way behind him. He gait was stunted, a limp noticeable in his back right leg from his recent scuffle with the cream interloper. Eventually he pulled to a halt beneath the oldest of the trees, scratching momentarily against its thick, resilient bark. The roughness of the motion helped clear his head if only slightly. His gaze traveled up the pine, up and up until he loses it in the vibrant canopy.
Coming here always made him feel small and perhaps that is why he cannot stay away. Finally when he can justify studying the roof no longer he forces himself to look at her. Lowering his head until he was on her level he steps toward her only slightly, huffing a warm breath. His eyes and body language ring with an apology but he cannot articulate it. “This is the forest,” he finally brings himself to say. The words are lazy, dripping slowly from his mouth in his usual manner as he studies her face. He cannot help but wonder what she is thinking, knowing the true monster that lives inside of him now. How she must hate him.
male // andalusian mix // seventeen.one // seven // bay pintaloosa [Ee/Aa/TT/LPlp] // riley
it is not violence that sets mens apart, it is the distance that he is prepared to go |
