m e n k h e t

she is not amused with his childish antics and over the top bravado. showmanship has no place in the forest. her ears sink further, if possible, into the black nest of her mane and her expression remained aloof and menacing, dark eyes watching him carefully. he is annoying and petulant, clearly believing to have some sort of entitlement due to his sex. he is mistaken for the second time today…

his words fall on deaf ears, for the first sentence he uttered proved he was not capable of respecting her authority. she stands her ground as he closes the distance between them, the fire of anger burning white hot in her blood. it will take strategy and cunning to handle this correctly, something she feels entirely capable of. her home will not be easily stolen and she is no longer the soft herd mare she once was. she is a leader now, fearsome and strong. she will do what it takes to prove it. she nearly laughs at him when he puffs up his chest and tries to intimidate her. she can’t contain the snort of amusement that bursts from her and she hopes it shows him just how little she is worried. he reminds her of a large preening bird, strutting and squawking like an idiot. she knows the song and dance.

she has been bullied all her life, her father and his friends looking down at her, but she refuses to accept it any longer… she laughs in the strangers face when he tries to scare her away into the forest. she isn’t going anywhere she doesn’t want to. and he’ll have a living hell on his hands if thinks staying is an option… she doesn’t bother to speak to him, instead launching forward with teeth snapping. she doesn’t hesitate to try and draw first blood. she’ll not be treated like a lowly coward in her own home. she is sleek and athletic, strong from a restful winter with good forage and knows every inch of this territory. it will not be taken from her easily and she remembers that just beyond the thicket in the prairie is one who might take up her cause should she ever need the help. she assaults him with every ounce of fury she can muster, snapping violently here and there and turning round to aim swift strong kicks in his direction. hell hath no fury like the angry mare.

mare : 5 : sooty buckskin : arabian mutt : 15.2 : kafkaesque
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