There was the sound of a throat being cleared, and the stocky mare whipped her head around to face it head-on, her heart already racing with the expectation that Vodnik had come, right on cue. But it was not Vodnik; it was not even the flashy Ailill, come to chase her down after their entanglement on the border. It was an entirely different stallion, the red-brown color of earth and with a face splashed with white like her own.
For a moment she was crestfallen, and more than a little bit irritated. Stallions had been nothing more than a pain in her ass recently, and here was another one, slinking around in a territory that did not belong to him and bothering mares that had no interest in him. Dracaena stood stiffly, as tall as her modest height would allow, and regarded the stranger with a sour expression from beneath her thick, pale forelock. Under her breath, she cursed in her mother tongue before addressing the intruder.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, but she took care to hide her anger as best she could, lacing her voice with a tone that instead suggestion boredom and apathy. A moment after she had spoken, however, something hit her: she could use this situation to her advantage. It would mean that her foray with Ailill had been a waste of time, but what did that matter, when here was a living, breathing stallion for Vodnik to find her cavorting with?
Her feathered hooves picked their way across the ground cautiously, bringing her a few strides closer to the stranger. She looked down her nose at him (which was an effort considering he was slightly taller than her) and appraised him as if he was a slab of meat whose quality she was questioning. "You must have a death wish, coming here." Her voice was accented, but clear and crisp, and she reinforced her words with a sharp crack of her pale tail.
DRACAENA
5; flaxen liver chestnut sabino; 15.1hh |
