Go back?
Up until this point the mare's mood had been balanced on a fine dagger point, with the delicious tension and uncertainty of how their interaction would pan out keeping her from teetering one way or the other. But at his suggestion Dracaena's heart hardened, and she looked straight ahead with her lips pressed into a firm line. It irritated her that he had taken her quip so seriously, but it irritated her more that his interest was apparently so easily lost. She had not taken a day and a night to prepare herself for this encounter for nothing. She deserved more than this.
When they reached the edge of the treeline, Dracaena hung back and watched the stallion stride up the incline toward the cliffs. It was difficult not to admire the effortless way his muscles rolled beneath his multicolored pelt, and this only infuriated her more. "You are mistaken if you think you can get rid of me so easily. I have no intention of going back there," she called out, her dark eyes flashing in the moonlight like chipped flint. Then, without waiting for a response, she turned and strode briskly across the meadow in the opposite direction, travelling downhill with her head high and her ears lost in the pale mess of her mane.
As she departed, the moonlight revealed what had been hidden in the shadows: delicate silver scars crisscrossing across the dark canvas of her body.
DRACAENA
four; flaxen liver chestnut sabino; 15.1hh |