For as long as she can, Fleete keeps the curve of her cheek, the delicate arch of her neck pressed into the rough bark of the tree. After a time, it even seems that she borrows strength from the gnarled ancient, so that when her new captor speaks, the fawn-colored mare turns to face him at last. Crowning the angular, elegant planes of her skull, Fleete's ears half-turn backwards; she cannot hope to wrap her tongue around the monosyllabic word that the auburn stallion offers as his name. Instead, with a politely bemused expression, the woman simply stares at Vercingetorix as if he is the first of his kind she has seen, her hazel eyes smoldering with intensity. An inexplicable tension tautens the muscles and sinews of her sinuous body as she steps forward, voluntarily exchanging breaths with the dun stallion where previously she would have considered such a gesture only among the most intimate of her relations.

The moment is broken, the rigidity drained from her by the grulla mare's soft voice. "Fleete." She responds simply, the flat, emotionless tone of her voice belied by a peculiar warmth in her expression as she moves to greet the unfamiliar mare with a similar, if more tentative, gesture. Though not the type who is prone to forming casual relationships among her kind - Fleete, too, is a solitary creature - she nevertheless feels an elusive pull towards the soft-spoken creature; a sort of kinship. In an impulsive moment, the delicate taupe creature stretches to touch her nose to Syndrome's, and behind the gentle contact there is a subtle pressure of friendship and reassurance.

Comforted by the presence of the soft-spoken, granite-colored mare, Fleete moves to stand beside her, her hooves whispering through the frail leaves. It is easier to face the strange man from this position, to hold his gaze and square her shoulders and draw from the reservoir of her inner strength. And facing him, it is easier to focus on the present and cast away the past; to forget the parting caress of her lips across Bondurant's dappled face and to focus instead on the persistent, haunting image of her daughter standing at the Cove's shore. "You took me and left my daughter." Though her voice is still devoid of emotion, there is nevertheless an accusing edge to these words as her eyes hold firmly to Vercingetorix's.



mare .. 6 years .. rabicano chestnut pearl .. akhal-teke x andalusian .. 16 hands

fleete