Fjö∂ur was angry that this mare had gotten into her face. Invasions of personal space caused her chest to tighten uncomfortably as she remembered…well, there was no point in bringing that to the forefront of her mind again. She snorted and shook her head as she mumbled, “Well, I hadn’t actually asked for help, I hoped aloud that you could talk.”
The waves lapped against her barrel, cooling her down slowly but steadily. A bead of sweat rolled directly into her right eye and she squeezed it shut to ease the sting. Blinking a few times, she returned her glare to the stranger. Once again she felt as though this bay mare was patronizing her and treating her like a child. It was further ruining her already sour mood. “Listen, if you think I’m going even further out into this asshole of an ocean you are crazy. That undertow will take me right back out to who know where.” Fjö∂ur swung her head around to glare at said waves.
She turned back to the taller mare. “And I would appreciate -“ She nearly choked on the word, it was so foreign to her. She continued, “if you would stop speaking to me as though I am a child. Like I said, I am short but not little.” The painted mare did her best to keep her tone more amiable this time, but her body language showed how uncomfortable she was with this. Her ears, while not quite pinned, were tilted back. Her tail was currently half suspended in the surf, but she did give it a little agitated flick. The slap of it against the water was satisfying.
Though the mare seemed to be willing to help, Fjö∂ur was irritated that she hadn’t answered her questions about the towering sand masses, the island name, and where all the grass was. But, she supposed if the curly eared resident would lead her to water, there would be grass. Her lips smacked drily and her stomach gave a small growl as she thought about eating. She studied the bay with calculating eyes, her head still held in a rather defiant position. Finally, she relented. “Fresh water would be…nice.” Her tone was still a little grudging. She noticed the mare scanning the water behind her. She snorted a half-laugh. “You won’t find her out there. I told you, the ocean is an asshole.” She paused, debating whether to ask the other for her name, but deciding on simply offering her own. “I am Fjö∂ur.”
FJÖÐUR
mare . icelandic horse . seven . silver black tobiano . 13 hh |