m e n k h e t

the tumult of the past few days has wracked her into a state of terrible unease. she spends her time pacing the boundaries of the forest and keeping a close protective eye on her only companion nuru. this vigilance costs her, transforming her into a walking ghost. the demons that had quieted in her mind have come frothing forth again, wounding her peace. she hears the laughter of her children, long dead, echoing in the dark corners between rocks and trees, sees their faces through low frosty boughs of pine. her old life is haunting her.

now that the stallion who had sought to overcome her had left she is more watchful than ever. she was certain it wouldn’t be the last time she had to deal with him. her physical wounds are healing well already, bruises losing their tenderness and scrapes and cuts knitting back together. she is proud of her first triumph in battle but not overly confident she could manage it again without some luck. it makes her realize the preciousness of her home, how much harder she will have to work to protect it.

she marches steadily through her home, hooves barely sounding on the soft path of pine needles she has worn through the snow. her ears flicker, hearing the sound of a new set of hoofbeats and she perks up and heads towards the sound of the bugle at a vigorous trot. she recognizes the large red stallion right away as her neighbor so-to-speak shamwari she echoes him, whinnying in greeting. she is almost relieved to have something to take her mind off worrying about the return of the worthless stallion that had shown up days before. she slows to a walk when she draws in closer and reaches out politely to exchange breaths with him, glad to have the opportunity to be more cordial than their first meeting. her voice is low but clear and hearty when she speaks.

shamwari, i trust you and your herd are doing well?

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