The red stallion's departure is as abrupt as it is unanticipated; Fleete has never known a man to walk away from a confrontation, not even Bondurant. It was she who had run from him, she who had fled from his emotional confession and who must now shoulder the burden of her regrets. Her hazel eyes follow Vercingetorix's silhouette as it melds with the shadows, and the fawn-colored mare tastes the same bitter regret, further darkened by a flush of shame. Though he had prised her from her daughter, how was Vercingetorix supposed to be aware of the relationship between the two different-as-night-and-day women? Perhaps his intentions had been noble - or, at the very least, harmless. He did not seem like an evil man; in fact, he reminded her of the man who still held her heart in many ways. Strong but soft-spoken. Proud but not overbearing.

And every bit as capable of hurting as she.

There is a depth of emotion roiling beneath the still, muddy surface of Fleete's orbs as they focus on the other mare momentarily. Her clenched jaw loosens, but she cannot make her voice work. Without the anger to focus on, she feels the keen edges of her agony more distinctly than ever; as if each word she has ever spoken, and all those she has ever heard, are serrated blades planted deep in her heart. Even the adamantine strength of her core begins to falter, and she does not want her newfound companion to bear witness to her tears; excusing herself with a harsh exhale of air and a brush of her muzzle against the other woman's shoulder, Fleete turns and stumbles hastily into the trees, taking great care to avoid the trail left in the dun stallion's wake.



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

fleete