as I wandered the forest, the green leaves among, i heard a wild flower singing a song

petal feels a flush of relief as he assures her of his wellness. despite the distance she keeps and the feeling of displacement the delicate mare still can’t seem to shake, bahadir has defended her and and provided her a home. her ivory head tips curiously, for a moment, rust hued ears fixed on his voice, as she wonders who desires to take this place from him. from them, as he explains. but that was a question for another time

she watches closely, attuned to the way the stallion shifts, seeking comfort, and aware of the way his dark eyes search her. with pale blue eyes, her entire attention is tethered to his features, eager to know his decision. would he approve of her venture? would he grant her this temporary freedom at least?

the fae-like mare lets out the breath she had been holding, overwhelmed with a sense of relief. she was free. for now, at least… and she doesn’t hesitate to show her gratitude, as distasteful as it had been a minute ago to think of. her lips part, uttering a soft ”thank you”.

the next few moments pass painfully, tension flooding over her. petal freezes as bahadir draws close, reaching out to touch her. her body wants to respond, to lean into the comfort that he offers, but her heart, and her mind, screams no. her ears twist with uncertainty and she feels a shiver flutter over her nearly iridescent hide. it takes a great measure of self control, breath hitching, as her own nostrils flare and drink in his scent, not to back away. her heart struggles with the desire to flee and the worry the she will cause him pain or offense.

petal nods gently, willing the stiffness to leave her features, and heeds his warning. the thought of dahlia facing the turmoil and darkness he speaks of is enough to allow her to focus, to cast aside the twisting sensation in her chest as he whispers. ”come back to me.” she dips her finely chiseled head in acquiescence, and promises. ”i will”. the little mare has not forgotten her cage even as her master unlocks its door.

her small muzzle stretches out, in a second where her warring emotions are forgotten, to offer him a soft touch on the shoulder. their circumstances were complex, but it was plain to her that the stallion cared for her. his concern, his protection… he seemed to offer it freely without the demand of reciprocation. and then the desert itself seems to sense her imminent freedom, stirring the sand at her hooves, and the moment ends. with the grace of of a palm frond swaying in the breeze, petal takes her leave.

p e t a l

mare : 6 : perlino dun : arabian mustang mutt : 13.3 : kafkaesque

s t o c k ~ c a l i t h a - l e n a @ d e v i a n t a r t