Meadow

she watched his expression melt from innocent inquisition, to something far more familiar. inwardly, came a squeeze in her stomach--a pinch, a bruise-blossoming pinch of worry. an age-old reaction, and though there lay might on her lips, some habits were harder to break. the bravado of her words dwindled, climbing to the back of her throat. she regretted it, mostly for the heat that came from him. would that mean the heaviness of her words would be levied? unlikely not. too set in her ways, the mare watched him soften once more and it seemed an invite to give more.

" a strange question, is all. " she offered a kinder expression; one, a shade more jovial. " it's like asking why a hare has long feet. " not that she understood kind etiquette anymore than a rock. she was more naive than she'd ever let on; not molded by warmth. hewn haphazardly by clumsy and crueler fingers. misshapen by cruelties and discrimination led by zealot hearts. no, simply, amunet took the question as something not worth asking. made little sense, as it was understood to be truth, a truth not needing explanation.

and his eager fascinations worried her. such sweetness fell only from her twin. a twin, amunet assumed had been left far away from the crossing and these isles. but there, he spoke with the desert on his breath and feeling quite like home. she was skeptical of him, though his company was something she was not ready to give up just yet, even if his idea of compliments were rather particular. " thank you. "