fenrir


The mare’s response dripped with sarcasm as she spoke of his interest, or lack thereof, in a crown. Fenrir snorted, not bothering to repeat himself or elaborate, for the mare’s tone implied she did not need it. He wanted to live his life with as little drama as possible - other than the odd skirmish for fun – and crowns were nothing but drama. He did not mind the size of his herd so long as they were safe, happy and healthy. A legacy, however, of many great children, she would be right about. But a crown is not needed for a legacy. Not all great men are kings.

He noted the sneer of distaste that crept over her face as he spoke of a normal herd structure, and wondered how someone could simultaneously be so beautiful and yet so ugly. She tried to paint him as ill informed, that he had been fooled into thinking he was an equal to the mares within his herd. In some ways, he recognised she was correct – mares would also be the most important part of the herd. You could switch one stallion for another and, for the most part, things would remain almost the same. ”It is not that simple.” he both thinks, and speaks aloud. ”There is cooperation and compromise. I would not do something just because a mare told me to, nor would I expect her to do what I told her.”

She spoke of mares being just as capable of defending themselves, and while he did not doubt they were capable, she was a fool to think they were as efficient. ”Just because a mare is capable of seeing off a predator by herself, does not mean that she should have to.”. From a biological standpoint, the average mare had less muscle than a stallion and lacked sharp tushes to inflict a powerful bite.