| herza watches the young stallion, eager to learn about him and this place. her dark eyes take in his crestfallen expression as he wonders what to call her. the friesian mare is used to dealing with this question. it is one of the hardest parts of her disability…not being able to introduce herself. her name is something she is deeply proud of. as he seems poised to carry on without knowing how to address her she nudges his shoulder to get his attention. luckily part of her name is simple to convey at least. the tall black mare dips her inky muzzle toward her chest, gesturing to herself, before stretching it toward yngvar’s chest. she bumps the soft vulnerable stretch of skin between his shoulder joints, at the base of his neck. she glances upward, curious to see if he is putting it together. heart, she thinks. you can call me heart. having tried at least, she lets her attention fall to his voice, stepping back out of his personal sphere. her ears, long and curving, twist forward and back, as she takes in his story. her assumptions of his youth are confirmed, he is roughly three years her junior. his story is intriguing, a tale of a boy who was lucky enough to be welcomed despite his unknown parentage…a boy who seemed truly to love and honor his mother. a colt who is grateful for the father who raised him but who wishes to know his true father… herza feels suddenly all the more grateful having been raised in such a stable and steady family unit. a quick frown passes her features when she thinks of her mothers recent passing, but she is quickly pulled back into his story. a tender smile graces her lips at the mention of his siblings. she had many half brothers and sisters, but none that she had been particularly close to. he seemed to truly care for his sibling. it was endearing. when yngvar nudges her, suggesting they walk, feuerherza nods, leading away from their current spot further down the meadow toward a trail that seemed to lead elsewhere. perhaps they could explore a bit while they talked.
|