sable
Sable stood there for a long while, letting the sun and wind blow dry her highlighted brown coat. The salt from the sea made her skin itchy, but she resisted the urge to roll; she wanted to look her best when she met the natives. The land rose abruptly before her in small sandy hills, so she could not see far inland, but the breeze was generous today and it told her all she needed to know. The musky scent of a stallion was strong, and there was an undercurrent of something lighter and sweeter: grass, perhaps? and fresh water? She smiled, recalling what her sister had said, and knowing she would prove her wrong.
She did not need to wait long. He broke over a nearby dune, sand tumbling beneath his hooves, and trotted across the flat stretch of beach toward her. The young mare's dark eyes were wide as she drank in the sight of him: his silver and ash-grey coat and his small yet elegant stature. He looks like no islander I've seen before... Unless his is a regional difference? Or maybe he is foreign, like me? Though her heart sang with excitement, instinctively she stiffened as he came close, his nose extended toward her as if expecting something: an islander custom she was not familiar with? Or was it a threat? "H-hi?" She stared at him, uncertain what to do and half-expecting to see his teeth flash and make contact with her skin, as all the other stallions she'd known growing up had been wont. Friendly greetings had not been a major feature of her childhood.
Eventually he pulled away, and she relaxed enough to blow out of her nostrils and hang her head in a casual way. When the stranger asked about her swim, a small crease formed between her eyes. What a strange question. He acts like he knows me already! It was not a bad thing, mind: if there was anything Sable appreciated, it was effortless camaraderie. It's a nice change from home, at least. In a soft voice, she lied, "It was, um, nice, I suppose, thanks." In truth, her muscles ached and her nostrils still stung with salt, but she was not about to complain. "Is... is this your home, by chance?" She flicked her honey-tipped tail across her drying hindquarters and let her eyes follow the path he'd taken. The sand was disturbed where he had stepped, though it was too loose to form true hoof prints. She wondered idly if it was the same further inland.
{15'2 smoky seal brown mutt}
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