• strong men die •
She could sense the young stallion’s irritation when he spoke. Fine, have it your way. His painted body launched toward her, and Cerosi rose to meet him with glee, relishing the adrenaline that surged through her veins and drowned out the anxiety that had still been gripping her. His teeth clamped down on the base of her neck, and she let out a small squeal, bucking to free herself, but she was not shaken by the blow. She reared up, another thin squeal escaping her parted jaws, and slashed the air in front of her. It was more of an excited motion, a display, not meant to land a hit. When her hooves hit the ground again, she struck forward with her teeth like a snake tagging its prey, aiming to grab the skin of the stallion’s shoulder. Cerosi had been in her fair share of scuffles, but they had almost always been punishments, and she was sorely unused to fighting back; if she got him, it was a weak hit, but she was proud of herself for trying.
As the two scuffled, Cerosi felt a weight slough off her gunmetal shoulders. A different perspective of her freedom was beginning to sink in. She felt calmer, and once she was no longer tangled with the painted stallion, she stepped back. Her breathing was heavy, but she liked the way her lungs worked, the way her heart was pounding out of joy rather than fear. She found she regretted her rudeness; the boy had done nothing to deserve her brash tone. Could she not have just asked for a friendly spar?
Despite her regret, Cerosi did not know how to know how to move forward. Back home, apologies were forced out of disobedient mares and children, but they never made anything better. You could apologize a million times and you’d still be treated coldly for days after the offense. Because of this, Cerosi did not believe apologies meant anything. She stood with the stallion between her and the waterfall, silent for an amount of time that bordered on awkward. Finally, she spoke, still not sure what exactly she wanted to say but knowing she had to say something.
”What’s your name?”
”Dialogue”
• CEROSI •
of nowhere
