zaia

As she stands at the peak of the dune (which is really not all that high, compared to some), she spots the grullo stallion. Her ears turn to the sides in mild but brief embarrassment as she wonders how long he has been watching her. Zaia recovers her aplomb quickly, though, and flicks her ears toward her handsome herdmate as she nickers a greeting to him. Zaia does not respond to his question, faint and distorted by the soft wind that carries a small reprieve from the heat. Instead, the red dun steps forward and slides again. The position is unnatural and she can feel an ache starting in her hind legs, but she ignores it as she leans back and lets her weight carry her down the face of the dune.

This time she slides until she stops and loses her balance, dropping onto her haunches with a low oompf. Zaia laughs as she sits in the sand, certain she looks as ridiculous as she feels, and it takes her a moment to regain her composure and prop herself back up on all four hooves. The Kiger mustang shakes out her coat and snorts at the cloud of dust that rises from her body. She feels gritty and unclean from days of playing in the sand. Even standing still, she collects more of it with every gust of wind.

She tosses her head and lifts her front half in a playful jump as she turns and trots over to the stallion. “You should try it,” she says by way of greeting. She reaches out to nip his cheek, following it with a bump of her muzzle in the same place as she tries to turn his head toward the dune to encourage him to scale it. “Once you get going the wind feels really nice. Just keep your eyes closed a little, or you might get sand in them.” She can feel the small grains on the bridge of her nose and she gives her head a half-hearted shake to dislodge them, but the itch is soon forgotten as she watches the stallion with steady, dark eyes.