Falls

The silver mare scraped away at the salt in her ruffled fur and drifted off in her thoughts. She mostly thought about her old home and family, and the emotions that welled to the surface now that she was away and safe were almost impossible to control. She groomed away, trying to groom the fury and sorrow out of her fur entirely, but even as she pulled the salt out of the carbon hairs, more sprung from her eyes and rolled down her face to wet her coat once more. Frustrated, she quit trying and lowered her head to gave herself a vigorous shake. When she lifted her head again, there was someone there.

A handsome painted stallion appeared to be just arriving in the clearing around the falls, and Cerosi watched him with wolffish gold eyes as he stepped forward to drink. She lifted her head defiantly, angry that he might have seen her cry and determined to compensate for that unfortunate first impression. ”Hey,” she barked. ”Do you live here? What is this place?” She pranced toward him, her tone and body language demanding and rather rude. Her tail flagged boldly over her haunches. She had never approached a stallion this way, and it was thrilling. Back at home, she might have been punished for even making eye contact with a man. Though she did not know for sure the same wouldn’t also happen here, she was feeling cocky. She thought she might even welcome a fight, and decided to antagonize the poor boy, just to see what would happen.

Despite having just asked him a question, Cerosi laced her ears back and tossed her head at the painted man, then pawed the ground before her. She wondered if he would be angered, or think it was a game; she doubted she could intimidate him, but she didn’t really care about that. She just wanted to scrap.

”You look a little tense,” she taunted. ”Let’s play.” Truth be told, Cerosi did not know what she was doing. She had freedom now, something she’d never known, and she hadn’t even begun to think about what to do with it, until it sank in that she did not have to obey or submit to another stallion as long as she lived. The pretty painted colt had likely never harmed a mare in his life—Cerosi realized too late that he looked quite friendly—but he had the misfortune of being the first stranger the gunmetal mare had come across, and the first man since she escaped her oppressors. Unlucky bastard, Cerosi thought to herself.

• CEROSI •