Dickere settled, still close to Lyden, as he began to speak. There was something comforting about standing with him, alone in this clearing in the Forest, his warmth seeping into her dark skin. Her eyes danced over where their skin was side by side and she found herself smiling at the stark contrast of her inky black coat and his lighter, creamier hue. It changed when it came to her legs, given that they were white (she had a small splash of it on the underside of her belly too), but still the differences in hue privately amused her.
“The Prairie?” She asked, ear flicking, “oh, that’s where Valentine lives now.” Shame crept up in her throat after she’d said it and she wondered if Lyden would be angry with her and Hickere for going into their neighbor’s territory. Still, Dickere was growing wary of keeping secrets from Lyden, especially when she was beginning to learn that she didn’t need to keep secrets from him. “Hickere and I went to the Prairie to visit him.” She averted her eyes and looked to the ground, swallowing. “I hope that’s okay?” Her voice was tight and small, still afraid of being reprimanded.
But to think now of Lyden growing up in that place, Dickere nearly found herself smiling. The idea for why she nearly smiled was momentarily buried, hushed as she listened curiously while Lyden continued his story.
There were so many places she didn’t know of. There were so many names of others and such intriguing customs – stallions allowing other stallions to live within the borders they called home! Even the fact that Lyden allowed Braylen to do so had been surprising but Dickere had made sense of it due to their relation. To hear there were stallions of no relation allowing stallions to live with them and have herds… well, safety in numbers, right?
Dickere blinked into his handsomely smiling face. Her story? She appeared thoughtful for a moment. “I grew up somewhere that looked much like the Prairie does,” the reason for her earlier smile was spoken at last, “though it was filled with oak trees. My father’s name is Daemon; my mother is known as Delonne.” She frowned. “My father was a hard man, as were those in the oak grove. He had the second largest herd in the grove, so he was frequently busy fighting off others.” Dickere didn’t know what else to say of her father, or even of her mother. Delonne had been nothing spectacular – simply a mare of the herd, there to further Daemon’s bloodline. So instead, she spoke of her sisters. “Hickere, Dock, and myself were all birthed on the very same day, so we grew to be close. Most of the herd picked on Dock, including our father,” her voice lost it’s happy note for a moment and she sighed, “as I got older, I started to stick up for her.”
They just hadn’t understood her. No one had. So Dickere had pushed her way between those that had bit and kicked at Dock, and she'd bit and kicked back and been bit and kicked in return. The only time she had been truly afraid and truly hurt was the time she'd stepped in between Dock and her father. Her coat gave a slight shiver of fright as she remembered that day.
“It was around the time where herd stallions would start trying to steal us from father and Hickere had an idea. Her mother had come from these islands and told her all sorts of stories of them…” Dickere trailed off for a moment and her voice was softer, “her mother died by lightning just a little while before we came here.”
Dickere took a small breath of air and exhaled, giving the slightest shake of her head. “I wasn’t sure about coming here, to be honest. Every day since we left the oak grove, I’d wanted to go back home.” Her head turned so her brown eyes could rest softly, curiously on Lyden. “But now I’m happy that we’re here.”
of the forest
black sabino [aa Ee n/Sb1], fourteen.three hands, arabian cross filly, two years old, played by pirate |