A tour? Abigail’s blue eyes lit up, head lifting and ears pressed toward Braylen. “I would love one!” What a wonderful idea, she thought, for as she turned to look at the scope of the territory she could see, Abigail thought there was nothing more she would like to do. As much as it made her heart ache, for it reminded her of home, it comforted her too; it was just different enough.
The short, stocky mare, mainly all white aside from the deep, dark gray-blue patches (one covering her poll, the other on her chest), fell in step beside Braylen. She watched the territory as they walked, felt the sand give way beneath her worn hooves, and found it was so very easy to smile. Only, again, she thought of the truth of matters and her gaze swept to Braylen and away thrice before she finally spoke. “I’m not dumb, you know,” she said quietly, and then smiled shyly before looking away, “I mean… I know… I understand that you…” Such an awkward situation she’s placed herself in! Abigail swallowed and attempted to pull from lessons she had been given, to be more of a headstrong mare than a silly filly. “I know I’ve come unaccompanied by an escort to your island and that you have every right to force me to stay.”
The words tumbled quickly out of her mouth before she swallowed, eyes focused on bright green foliage rather than turning to look upon this stranger she had potentially sentenced herself to. “I just want to tell you that I will not fight or try to run if that… if that is what you choose to do.” Her heart sank, just slightly, for the fear of the unknown – that this could be far worse than what she ran away from to begin with.
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