Oh God. Someone HAD heard me. If I weren't a black horse, I would have flushed the brightest shade of red at my outburst. I'm stunned; stiff. Feet firmly planted in the sand, my eyes rest on the stallion carefully assessing him. He appears friendly. He's joking with me about being in my prime. God, could this get any worse? The silence stretches as he introduces himself to me as Goose. I mumble almost inaudibly, "Hello." I paused for a second. "My name is N.asa," I continue. The air in the meadow is cooler than the desert, but at this very moment, it was stiffling. I lower at my eyes to my hooves and stare at the sand. I start counting the grains. I don't know why I am like this, but meeting new horses, meeting anyone really, sends me reeling in panic mode. I feel claustriphobic. In an effort to not be rude, I avert my gaze back to the draft built stallion. "New to the meadow?" I question. I'm internally scolding myself, wishing I wasn't so afraid of others. Years of isolation had wrecked my ability to socialize normally. ooc: I'm still developing N.asa's personality but basically she's a shy introvert. |