FIRESTORM △
Her wet coat was in that strange stage, midway between wet and dry. And it was annoying. Giving pause in her stride, she turns her head to nibble and offers a lick or two to the shaggy coat covering her ribs. Snorting, the woman would turn rightways, and press forward until finally, her attention fell upon another figure -- she was dark, but also silver. Unlike any other horse she’d ever seen. And her interest was immediately piqued.
More than it should have. For she looked and stank of death -- but she didn’t recognize why until she drew closer, and saw the body laying there. This place was certainly strange -- the men fought over women without regard for them, and now this one who gazed upon the body of a dead and broken husk, like she belonged there. Her ears pointed forward out of the wet scruff of her tangled mane, as she picked up pace until she closed the distance… At least, a respectful one. While Firestorm had proper manners, truthfully it was the dead carcass that made the red mare give the silver and black one a wide berth.
“ Was it a friend of yours? “ she asked with a southern drawl, inquisitively. That was the only conclusion that came to her young, naive mind. She’d seen horses pay proper respects to their fallen in such a fashion before -- but they’d been rendered to nothing but bones, and the scent of death wasn’t quite so... present.
The idea of death wasn’t her favorite -- but at least this discussion was a real one. Not unlike her first encounter, mere moments ago.
RED ROAN / 14 HANDS / MUSTANG / MARE / PLAYED BY GLORY |