zakhar;
He barrelled through the trees almost faster than his long legs could carry him. Scraggly branches clawed at his face and his blood roared in his ears. Hurry, hurry. He imagined them closing in on him: great, scaly, six-legged beasts with monstrous, slavering jaws and hungry eyes. Faster, faster. The stink of their breath was almost tangible. With adrenaline singing in his veins, his fear of them felt almost real.
Zakhar burst from the trees like a freight train, startling a nearby roosting flock of birds into the air. Yet his legs did not slow. Between the moss-covered rocks and through the patches of heather he sprinted, until something in his peripheral vision suddenly became much more interesting than his imaginary foes.
Someone his own age!
The roan colt pricked his ears and whinnied to announce his presence as he approached the stranger, slowing his pace to a canter before sliding to a distinctly ungraceful stop a few strides away. He bounced up and down on his forelegs, rising up into a half-rear before dropping back down again and again. He exuded excitement, from the tip of his short, flailing tail to the lights shining from the depths of his dark eyes.
“Hey! Hey you! I’m Zakhar! You wanna play with me?”
blue roan; 5 months; mutt; 15’2 wfg |