here's a handshake, soldier,
'cause we both lost the war.
Three weeks into her new life at the Ridge, Svetlana had successfully avoided everyone other than Blackmore. She'd even taken a quick leave to the Falls one day, when she'd been exploring the Ridge and she caught scent of another mare on the wind. The last thing our buckskin had wanted to do was introduce herself to any of Blackmore's other mares. She wasn't a fan of herd dynamics, and more often than not, she found herself enemies with the other females she lived with. When she was younger and much more of a nomad, she'd adopted the idea to never interact with anyone she shared a home with. After all, a few weeks later she would be on the move again, so there had been no point.
Of course, she was trying to act differently with Blackmore, if only because he didn't have a mean bone in his giant body and our little buckskin maiden wasn't feeling up to screwing him over and leaving him in her rearview.
So today, upon the dawn of her decision to remain in the Ridge at least semi-permanently, Svetlana finds herself cliff side. The sun has not yet risen completely over the horizon, but has just barely peaked over the rocking ocean. The sky is clear. The air is crisp. She hesitates for a moment as she gazes over the ocean with amber eyes, and then rocks herself backwards, throws her head up, and lets out a whistle. Pivoting, she waits impatiently.
She pricks her ears forth, amber eyes roving the contours of the plateau in front of her. She shifts her weight to the side, her hip cocked, her long tail slapping against her hindquarters in a semblance of irritation. She'd come out here to finally meet everyone - now where were they?
S V E T L A N A
female ∙ buckskin ∙ the ridge |