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Nekharat never knew her mother, and as such did not have comforts like youthful songs to keep her mind absent of any ill thoughts that might take up residence. The only purpose her family served was her creation. Beyond that, she rejected the idea that they had shaped her in any way. She left her father when she was barely a yearling with the utmost confidence that she didn’t need him or his notions of Gods and power. She wanted to make her own rules and to experience the world in a unique way, so venturing out on her own was the only solution.
However, she did not fully fathom that a new world away from the desert would yield such dramatic differences in the others she had met. Their physical qualities—from the inwardly curved ears of the Peak mare to the thick bones of the baroque buckskin—made for an interesting assortment of attributes, though she seldom commented on them aloud. It shouldn’t have surprised her that this stallion would find the way her coat gleamed in the sun so fascinating, but she was taken aback by how he showered her with praise. It was a new feeling, being complimented so genuinely.
She smiled and lightly laughed at his incredulousness, enjoying the flattery for the cheap high that it was. “Oh, thank you,” she replied politely, not wanting to sully her good impression, despite feeling slightly overwhelmed.
He came closer and poured over her coat, examining her like a polished ruby, and she took a moment to admire him up close as well. His blue eyes shone brightly and the white of his coat made the snow seem dull in comparison.
“Do you know what you look like?” She retorted, her tone somewhat playful. “I have never seen another like you,” she offered honestly.
NEKHARAT
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