“Come on, let’s run.” She had said breathlessly to the stripe-legged stallion, huffing hotly in his direction, a small cloud of air brushing against his shoulder as she takes off.
Sweat was a welcome alternative to the cold.
Wheeling about, Sighurd lets out a great squeal that is swallowed up by the density of the winter around them. She stops suddenly and tosses up her heels, bluntly kicking out at Snake in what would be considered a jab at playing, and still a little more serious than that. It was uncommon for her to engage in “fun”. Her family had been serious, all furrowed brows and flicking tails, frowning mouths and words that scolded. Energy was for saving- and yet she had been expected to follow in her father’s footsteps.
Perhaps that was why under the fuzz of her winter jacket, there were small knicks and notches carved into her skin- reminders of punishments at the hands of her mother, disappointing kicks and nips that were meant to set her into her place, to teach her to take things seriously. There was a sort of dark cloud that lingered in the edges of Sighurd’s minds, and she knew that her father would cluck his tongue and shake his head at her display, and yet be pleased that she had not forgotten the ways of combat. “Give me all you got, na!” She blurts out into the sky.
mare . red dun . fifteen pt one . russell