The morning is cool and clear. The waking summer sun promises stifling heat and discomfort to come. It reaches long and low across the rippling grasses, painted the seed heads in pinks and oranges. Soon enough the grasses will brown and give way to autumn.
She wonders if it ever burns here - if too wet springs ever proffered enough fuel for fire to ravage the grasses and trees.
Her home had burned once. The flames took more than grasses and trees from her too.
She can’t go back. There is nothing for her but ash and heart ache too deep for a young filly to face.
She blinks away the tear that threatens to leap from her eye and suddenly she sees him approaching.
He is young, yet handsome nonetheless. She can see the potential of muscle peeking beneath his golden pelt - the pride he wears in his step. For a moment she thinks he might speak to her, and her first instinct is to bristle and lean back on her haunches ever so slightly. But, then he doesn’t, and she is left slightly confused… and curious.
She softens slowly as he grazes nearby, seemingly oblivious to her presence.
“Hello.” she offers, her head dipped low and ears forward - friendly, even.
bokeh
2yo red dun roan mustang filly |
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