Meadow

The approach of the stallion did not go unnoticed, and the dark mare quickly looked over to the stallion. Muscles coiled beneath her flesh, ready to flee at any given moment. The gods had given her the gift of long legs, and she certainly knew how to use them. But the stallion did not seem to come to her will ill intent; even with the season that was upon them. Given closer inspection, she could see he had been hurt as well. A warrior then, but that did not mean he was safe.


“My name is Melisma.” She replied, her voice quiet, barely above a whisper. It had been so many long seasons since she had spoken, the mare barely recognized her own voice. Her gaze flickered away from him, but only momentarily. Looking off in the direction of the lagoon, she still did not see the movement she had seen before. A clear sign that her imagination had taken advantage again. “Why are you here?” she questioned, as she looked to the stallion, not daring to look back at the lagoon again. Surely, he had a herd to tend too? Or maybe that was why he was here, because he had lost it all?