she moves like a spider. there is some kind of erratic grace as she both prowls and scatters forth. the sun has barely broken the sky but there is still some light. is it the first hint of the sun or the last hint of the moon? it spills on the mare’s mostly dark coat. the grey of gunmetal. that color is less noticeable than her eyes…one shining an icy blue while the other is inky dark. she doesn’t bother trying to hide her irritation. it is spelled out in the tight draw of her muzzle, the grim set of her lips, and the darkness of her mismatched eyes. her tail, a plume of grey, white, and black, snaps like a whip against her hocks, thwacking wet with seawater and a noise, something akin to a growl, leaves her throat as she glances around the meadow. son of a bitch. nothing looks familiar. dredge scowls, appraising the meadow. her ears remain tucked in the nest of black tangled mane at her poll and she does not intend to lift them. it is quiet there, at this time of morning, but still she sees them. the happy idiots. making friends. finding lovers. she unveils a snort of disgust. did they expect it would last? what a treat they were in for. the painted grullo mare wastes no time, save for that narrow inspection, before diving into breakfast. she snatches at the short grass haughtily, owning it as much as any that had come before her despite the fact that she had no clue where she was. she hadn’t meant to go this far. when she thinks of his smile though, she wishes she hadn’t washed ashore at all. it would be better to be drifting… or sinking.. than to be here, alone. |