Meadow

Lace lifts her head as Ygnvar speaks, her spotted ears pushing forward through her thick mane. She quietly watches as he pushes the snow out of the way, just like he offered, and it made her tilt her head in confusion. Nice; he was overly nice. There must be something wrong with him, or this place he was wanting her to go. Every red flag she had ever been taught was instantly on alert, making her heartbeat just a little bit harder in her chest. Though Lace had never been subjected to cruelty, there had never been a stallion as nice as him. They were usually showoffs, or some kind of jerk in their attempts to flirt, or honestly just thought themselves so well off they didn’t care. All three behaviors usually had mares flocking, not that it had ever appealed the grumpy little mare.


“Um, thanks?” she said, still feeling confused on top of so many things. Hesitantly, she moved a bit closer to graze upon the grass he offered. It held no taste, and the clinging bit of snow that melted in her mouth made the food seem overly wet. It was the trouble of any winter, but it made it all the more miserable when she had no idea where she was, or anyone here to complain with. Yngvar didn’t seem the kind to add in on her misery like the ones she was used too back home.


“So…” she started, eyeing him as the ideas of what giant babies would do to her body flashed through her mind. “What exactly is there to do on this island before you go trying to whisk me away?” she asked.