Posted on April 18, 2013 at 10:13:32 PM by owl.
 | ||
| Remarkably, despite the mare’s obvious displays of shyness and overt cautiousness, she had been quite friendly and outgoing in her homeland. She had grown in a world where family was everything and where being a part of a functional herd was a matter of life and death. The world she had fled from was much more... primitive, primal even; much different from these islands she had stumbled upon. She had felt like she was still floating and struggling against the will of the ocean, tossed and turned wherever the winds and waves decided to take her, since her arrival in the forest. There is no exception to this feeling today, as she perched carefully in front of the rust-coloured stallion. A small sigh of relief had escaped her when he accepted her proffered muzzle, finding a small shred of comfort in the familiar ritual.
A small, knowing smile flitted across the mare’s dark lips as the stallion spoke, ears flicking briefly as his voice cut through the early morning silence, the depth and strength of it belied in the low, soft tone he had elected for their little discussion. Serenity was a sweet, well-meaning soul, something that the brown mare appreciated greatly and it was for that gentle sweetness that the dark-skinned woman had been so quick to name her as a friend. It was, perhaps, not the wisest of decisions, but it was one that the brown mare would not regret or rescind. However, that was not to say that the brown mare did not enjoy some reprieve from the spotted mare’s robust, demonstrative behaviour. “Perhaps we both needed the quiet hours of the morning to ourselves.” she replied carefully, the end of her sentence faltering as the stallion started to reach toward her with his soft, whiskered muzzle. Her dark shoulder shivered beneath his touch, betraying the dark mare’s urge to flee from the stallion’s presence back into the safety of the trees. She bore her discomfort well, however, heaving a heavy sigh before daring to mime the stallion’s gesture. She gently pressed her tawny nostrils into the crease of his throat and chest, inhaling deeply of his heavy, musky-scent before instinct took over and she started to carefully groom his shoulder with light nudges and nips. mare. connemara mix. five. seal brown. 13.3 hh. |
asdjfkladsgjalds WORST POST EVER.
Replies:
- The Findire search - By sheedgext October 23, 2013 at 12:01:00 PM
- The Arab coffee hou - By sheedgext October 23, 2013 at 07:40:48 AM
- "The crude mortality of man." - By vercingetorix April 26, 2013 at 10:07:36 PM
- x. - By vercingetorix April 29, 2013 at 05:56:10 AM
Post a reply: