The tension in the air was palpable. Even though the stallion had swung his hips to the side, his legs taut and tense, muscles clenching tightly against the bones in his hips. There is even a stillness in his mind, and all he can do is let the face of the boy fill his immediate vision, almost forgetting the protective stance of his mother, towering over the small boy.

Perhaps it was hate that filled his mouth with a bitter taste, a sort of metallic tang that blossoms behind his teeth as his nose hangs the smallest distance away from Therese's. Breathing in, she smells sweet, but foreign, not like the strange pale girl that he had stumbled upon on the crossing. She had been alluring and pure, with a history behind her soft eyes that he had wanted to know... now it seemed like all that had been ripped away from her. Unsure of whether he was to be disappointed or mad (of course, there would be a battle raging in his thoughts for a long time to come), his dark red ears twist forwards tentatively as she speaks.

Of course he listens, and while he listens, he finds that his assumption that Therese would fight to the death for her boy is affirmed, and he feels bad. Shrinking back a bit as she mentions the name of the boy's father (that damned rapist who would die at Vercingetorix's feet one day), the red dun doesn't want to get too close, finding himself at fault for her predicament. “I'm sorry.” He mutters, his dark eyes stuck now to her lips, watching as her nostrils shiver softly with each inward breath. He was sorry for not protecting her as he should have, and he was sorry that she had to be saddled with such responsibility without preparation. Breathing in a slow, deep sigh, Vercingetorix blinks, still staring at Therese's mouth. “I'm going to kill him.” He whispers, knowing that it was obvious that he was promising to slaughter the man that had done this to her.

Choosing to ignore the boy for now, he inches forwards, dropping his head in hopes to rub his nose against her chest, in hopes of comforting her and silently apologizing with body language. Despite trying to find some comfort in her flesh, his legs are still tense and ready once more to bolt into the eaves of the herd, should something go awry.

male, red dun, ee aa Dd, crossbreed, 15.1 hh.
mordred x blackwort.