Meadow

It was a dangerous game she played, quite literally playing with the fire that had reignited within his soul. The somber stallion kept his emotions contained out of habit, as a younger man his inclination to let his instincts dictate life had given him to shortage of grief and it was easier, simpler… safer for everything that he kept them in check. Yet she in whatever misguided attempt to save him from himself had driven past those barriers in an instant and as heavy hooves pounded the soft ground in pursuit he felt more predator than prey and it was a perilous thing. The brute was prone to extremes when left unrestrained and the façade he had sought so hard to build would be difficult to repair in her wake he did not doubt. Yet for now these thoughts were far from his mind, his singular focus the flaxen mare who shone like a comet as she fled before him.

Something akin to a growl rumbled through his chest as her figure began to vanish within the trees, though it was quickly lost to the wind in his pursuit. His larger form harder to navigate between the trunks of the trees that rose haphazardly before him and so slowing the call of the hunt. It was this perhaps that gives him enough control of himself when he finally come crashing through the scraggly brush, their sharp barren branches dragging at his mottled skin but he paid it no heed. She consumed his focus as he loomed dangerously above her delicate form, so many thoughts dancing on the edge of his conscious. It was to both their benefit that she stepped towards him in that moment, despite the threat that lingered beneath the question he had asked. At the mockery in her voice his spotted ears untangled slightly from the dark tresses of his mane.

Those words and tone so unexpected that it grounded him and broke through the fog that had so clouded his judgement, and while he did not revert entirely back into his self-appointed prison it did give him some much needed stability in that moment. His chest still rose and fell rapidly, the beating of his heart and burning of his lungs giving him something to focus on as he gritted his teeth. Pain can be terribly clarifying. “I’m not dead yet.” He growled, an unspoken implication being that she was lucky not to be even though even in his darkest hours harming a woman would have been an improbability for him.

For the moment of silence that bloomed around them seemed to draw into oblivion as he held her gaze, emerald against crystal as if a view of the horizon where earth and sky met. How long they dwelled in that moment, encapsulated in an odd paradox of tension and relief he could not say but as his heartbeat slowed he exhaled as if he had been holding his breath the entire time, which was a possibility, and she seemed to step back slowly not necessarily in retreat as his hot breath bellowed on the air around them momentarily before the wind swept it away. Her next words take him further by surprise, the insight she had so quickly gained into his tendencies was unexpected but perhaps he was not so enigmatic as he liked to believe sometimes. There was also a sort of symmetry in her own experiences it seemed, at least partly.

Sighing once more he sought to ease the tension that had built up in his muscles, the chill wind was not exactly helping ease himself. “Uh huh… and attackin’ a strange stallion you had only just met, enticin’ him to run you down seemed a safe bet that was not at all at your own expense, huh?” Yet he had not missed the way her voice had broken at the word brother and that she referred to her care of him in the past tense. It did not seem that she no longer cared for him by choice either, grief was easy to recognize when it had been his constant companion. It softened his features, helped quell the remnants at the fire which had blazed so brightly though it was not extinguished in the slightest. His vibrant gaze left her finally, narrowing out toward the hidden horizon though the sound of the wind whistling through their makeshift shelter gave good indication that the storm was still fast approaching. He looked back to her just in time to see the shiver dance across her golden body and any reservations he still kept about taking on the mantle of protector fell away.

Proof that an old dog cannot learn new tricks, he stepped around her slowly while keeping watch, though he did not expect she would misinterpret his intentions, until he stood upwind. She could argue if she liked, but he was built to take more the brunt of its force than she and no words would sway him. Instead he thought perhaps he could distract her from any thoughts of not needing saving. “Tell me ‘bout your brother.” It was a fine line between question and demand, but his voice had lost its growl as much as it ever did at least and his next words perhaps would soften it even more. “I know enough of grief to recognize its face.”