Meadow

Solomon

She tracks him, her gaze cool and unruffled on his figure. He burns with the need to have her, to make her his own in whatever way he can but she is a lady of ice. Despite his stalking of her, she remains collected and unafraid and he has to admit that there's a grudging sort of admiration warring with his annoyance.

As the tobiano finishes his movement, she shakes her head in response to his question, but does not offer any words. He wants to hear her voice, but she denies him this too, instead offering the dark skin of her muzzle.

He stares at her for a beat, amused by this girl of surprises, before extending his own charcoal muzzle in her direction to draw in the exquisitely girlish scent of her. She's clearly no young filly, but something about her reminds him of a young girl, untouched by the hardships of the world.

It doesn't change what he wants, but maybe he'd cuddle a little first.

Solomon waits for her to draw away from him first, not wanting to cut short the brush of her skin. Both dark rimmed ears fall forward, pinning her with his dark gaze. He settles himself, for better or worse, with a tilt of his hip.

"I find it hard to believe that no one has snuck away with you." A rogue grin slips across his lips. "Or is it that you're looking for a home to call your own?"

The mare in front of him has yet to speak, and has already surprised him with her reactions, which leads him to watch her face for emotion. She had not given anything away in her tone, and even her body language remains only watchful. Perhaps her blue eyes would tell him what her lips would not.

Dutch Harness Horse Mutt | Champagne Grullo Tobiano Stallion | 17 Hands | The Cove