Meadow
Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.
Posted on September 22, 2020 at 08:04:53 PM by Sabriel
It was only reluctantly that Sabriel parted ways with the spotted giant after the evening they’d spent pressed close to one another beneath the shelf of rock - though by all appearances, of course, the dark mare was eager to go. She could not permit her behavior to indicate otherwise any more than she could permit herself to place her trust in a stallion so soon after what she’d suffered. Bondurant had let her go with little objection beyond that of concern for her well-being, but she had read the pain that lurked in the depths of those strange green eyes regardless. And the silver black thought that perhaps - if only for a moment - her own piercing blue eyes had revealed the same. Regret, sorrow, and a fonder farewell than the clipped syllables she’d offered to his searching questions. Where would she go, whether she would be safe, and another offer to escort her to the Peak if desired.
Sabriel repaid his kindness in lies, and left him looking as wretched and torn as she had felt.
She did not go to the Peak as she had vowed, but looped around and traveled south instead - the opposite direction of the mountains, to ascertain that she was less likely to be found. There, the land became flatter, and the soft melody of the sea was carried from where it lay to the east and the south. Hailing from the mainland, Sabriel had not expected this revelation - why, the strip of land to which she’d come could be crossed from shore to shore in a single day by one who was truly determined. And in a land so small, she could not hope to hide forever from those who might know her. She could not forever conceal herself from the cruelty of Solomon, or the kindness of Bondurant. But by the time that she had discovered this truth, it was too late - her belly had swelled enough to be a hindrance, and might well be the end of her if she chanced the swim. Unburdened as she’d been in the fall, the journey had still been exhausting, and perilous.
So Sabriel lingered in a distant meadow, which - while frequented by her kind often - presented a rotating cast of strangers who seemed just as uninterested in the striped mare as she was in them. Which suited her just fine - for as long as it lasted.
That said, no peace could be eternal, and fortune inevitably abandoned her towards the end of the cold season. Having been forced to dig through deep drifts of snow in order to locate sustenance, Sabriel was grateful for the buds that had begun appearing on the brush and trees, signaling the inevitability of spring - even with the thrill of fear she felt at the thought of delivering a child. She browsed on these first signs of renewing life, sometimes chewing entire trigs from the branches of this tree or that in her desperation and hunger. By now, her shaggy coat had lost its luster, and hung a little looser from her gravid figure, but the silver black endured. And each day felt like a victory over the one who’d sought to break her - a gloating smirk in the face of the champagne stallion who undoubtedly assumed her dead, or captured by another. Sabriel might not be thriving, but she was still free.
And she would sell that freedom dearly.
This was the first thought that crossed her mind when the palomino stallion approached, his intent clear in the way he watched her, the way his body moved. Sabriel’s dark ears buried themselves within the pale sea of her mane, and a scream of defiance burst from her lips. The stranger had circled around her, and was moving as if to herd her into the direction from which he had come - but Sabriel, wily and wary, would not have any of that. For a moment she appeared to concede, taking a couple strides in that direction - then she veered and bolted around the golden brute, throwing out her heels for good measure. It wasn’t possible to kick as high anymore with the burden of the child, but perhaps chance would put a leg in their path, and hobble the idiot enough to keep him from pursuing. She didn’t consider the risk that a successful blow could pose - that anger and instability might lead this violent creature to respond in kind.
Replies:
- -THERE IS NO HONOR AMONG THIEVES - By ℭULLEN October 24, 2020 at 11:41:08 AM
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