"I don't understand you."
His voice was deep, just as his size had indicated it might be. But Dracaena did not dwell on the sensation of longing his voice awakened in her; rather, she pursed her lips in annoyance. So he was one of those. She should have guessed.
The stout little mare let her chin drop and looked away from the stallion, letting her eyes roll melodramatically and roam about their moonlit surroundings for a moment. "Luckily for you, I have no problem understanding your garbage language." Her voice was crisp and clean, accented but not too heavily so. She flicked an ear to the side and looked up at the stallion from beneath her lashes, apprehending him with a mixture of amusement and speculation. She made no moves to clarify what she had said moments before in her own tongue. She would let him dangle, let him bask in her mysterious foreign allure.
Yet, despite her outward confidence, she could still feel her heart thumping heavily in her chest, and her body tense in preparation to fight or flee. There was no way of telling if this stallion was the sort prone to violence - as so many others were - or if he had any intention of taking advantage of her, alone and vulnerable as she was in this dark forest. Given that she had more or less just insulted him (and was about to do so again), Dracaena figured that she was likely about to find out.
"What is your name, garbage man?"
DRACAENA
four; flaxen liver chestnut sabino; 15.1hh |