Kendry walks among a symphony of crickets, almost in his own bubble as the insects fall silent ahead of and around him before striking up their songs again. It is pleasant to pass through. His passage through the tall, dry grass adds a hushed tempo to underscore the chirring. As he walks he notes the emptiness of the field around him and is pleased. The sprawling meadow is full of potential, as open and waiting as the rest of his life.
He glances skyward to follow the moonrise, its glow overwhelming the tiny gleaming stars nearby, and when he looks down there is a tall, dark figure grazing up ahead. The grass at his legs has been growing shorter all the while and his shuff, shuff, shuff song grown quieter, until by the time he’s near enough to get a closer look at the sole other occupant of the meadow it’s just the crickets singing. For a moment he considers walking by without a word, still content with his own company and contemplating all that the future can offer him, when his casual glance falls across the unique convex slope of her nose.
Kendry’s nostrils flare, his lip rising to draw a stronger scent from the mare to confirm what he already knows, and without a change in stride he adjusts his path to walk directly toward her. There is no mistaking that face. He’s not forgotten her for a moment since leaving the Isles, just hadn’t dared to hope he might encounter her again upon his return, assuming foolishly that she, like the others, had moved on.
“Bozena,” he rumbles as he comes to a stop before her. His blue eyes are steady on her, attentive but not as consuming as their first encounter. Kendry won’t deny he is drawn to this mare, has been since the day she came to his attention, but he’s older now, a little more tempered, motivated more by his mind this time than his groin. Kendry wants to know who she is, to round out those soft vowels with her nature. He wants to know the mare behind the name. |