Falls

The skinny creature is unnerving. Even the red stallion, fit and healthy, is set back and feels the muscles coil in his shoulders and haunches. Like a cornered animal that is beginning to realize that it needs to flee, his instincts begin to burn white hot in his blood, and for a moment, Vercingetorix feels a hint of fear.

There is a discomfort in the air, one that tastes acrid, like fouled fruit. Was it the emaciated creature? Set on edge and subconsciously leaning away from the stallion, Vercingetorix can feel his heart thrumming in his chest rather unexpectedly.

Perhaps disease was something he feared more than death itself.

To fall weak and to be expelled from his home and turned away from his family, simply because he had become sickly? It was signing a death warrant. He would give anything in the world to not die alone, and if there was sickness in his blood, it was a likely ending. The smoky black speaks words that sound as threats, and there is mystery about them. To prove what, exactly? That he was not diseased? That he could best two fit, healthy adults in the belly of the frozen wasteland?

“Prove what, exactly?” He answers, still taking the woman’s advice to heart and squaring up his hooves. Straight-legged and tense, he trusts that his body, though slowly aging, was still strong and fit, and he could spring away easily thanks to the agility of his kind. He suspected that the mare had similar intentions, and he is surprised she had not already fled the scene.

It seemed that they were standing their ground to disease, even if it was likely the smoky stallion could see the hate and the fear written on both their faces.