the exchange at the falls with asche, as he was now known to her, had left the grullo and white mare particularly unsettled. with surprising skill the stallion had whittled down a spot in the icy barrier she kept up but for what? the sport of it, she wonders now…dredge remembers, sourly, the moment she almost broke…. a space between breaths where she thought she might speak to him, truly…. before he took his leave of her. the worst part was the feeling of ugly triumph that her head lorded over her… stupid, stupid dredge. why would he want to know you. why would he care? the only good thing about the whole ordeal is that, for that short time, it had put Him out of her mind almost completely… the Him before coming to the isles…. the one who really screwed her up. His tall form flits across her mind as she makes her way back from the falls and dredge feels her already bad mood darken… as the path widens the mare remembers why she had made her way to the falls in the first place. the meadow is crowded, filled with pairings and groupings of all shapes and sizes. she is reminded, again, of her aloneness. at first it had felt somewhat liberating, washing up on this unfamiliar shore far away from Him…. anger could accomplish great distance. now, looking out at the milling equines before her, the mostly-dark mare just feels awkward and irritated at the entire situation. she skirts the edge of the meadow, trying to find a less populated area… despite the throngs it still lives up to it’s namesake with lush drying grass beneath thin crusts of snow. the temptation of food normally soothes her bad temper but today she feels particularly foul as she drops her head to graze. her ears bury themselves the nest of black mane at her poll as she tears at the brown stubbly winter grass. when a patch of snow impedes her black lips she takes to that white crust a little too enthusiastically, pawing vehemently with a round white hoof. screw winter. eventually she notices a figure, from the corner of her pale eye, running wild in the fray. he moves freely, running, bucking, squealing like a child, circling the meadow in it’s entirety. dredge raises her head to watch the spectacle, her eyes, one light and one dark, hard with irritation. her ears are flat to her poll and she blows out a disgusted snort. showoff. if she had been in a better mood, not so unsettled, she may have been able to ignore him… and ignore the fact that he had stopped moving somewhat close to her, reaching up to scratch his cheek with a hind leg. as it was, he seemed the perfect target for her bad mood… though he is a couple yards away, likely oblivious to her, dredge prowls toward him with a scowl plastered over her features and dark ears laced back into the nest of mane. as she approaches, she studies the stallion, noting that he is the same deep color as Him. why is it there is always something that reminds her? always. ”running around like an idiot to just to clear your head or are you just determined to waste as much energy as you are space? ” |