Falls

The mare obviously has spirit, something I will take great pleasure in breaking.

My intense dark eyes do not leave the two-toned hag as she ignores my faux warning and plunges her lips into the pool that lies between us. She lifts her crown and my amusement deepens as she hisses her reply, mentioning the messy scars that are carved into my backside. ”Don’t be jealous” I say coolly, my eyes still trained intently on her ”I have a different beast to thank for these. One with obvious taste”. I lazily flick my ears back and forth, trying to distract from the ideas and malicious desires humming in my head. I wonder what this mouthy mare would taste like, how it would feel to tear at her delicate flesh.

As a younger man I had suspected that the cruel upbringing I endured was the reason for my hate, the reason I seek to break open the opposite sex and feast upon their hurt as my mother did with me. But as the years have weighed upon my battered mind I have come to entertain a different idea, a much more enjoyable concept; it wasn’t my mother who birthed the darkness in me, the darkness was always there, she was just the first to see it. Perhaps she abandoned me not out of weakness as originally thought, but out of self-preservation. A smart move if you ask me.

The mare speaks and I must stifle a wide smile as she gives me the perfect leverage. ”A palomino mare you say?” I momentarily flick my eyes upwards as if searching my memory. ”I do know of an older girl, about your height, brown eyes” I skilfully lie, hoping my vague description of a Lagoon trinket matches the mare she is looking for. As I continue I try to appear disinterested, as if the words I speak are completely true and not some trickery meant to lure her back to the Lagoon. ”But why should I tell you where she is?”

FRIESIAN MUTT | SIXTEEN TWO HANDS | TWELVE YEARS