Desert

Cain’s light jest of ‘liar’ brought a smile to Cerosi’s otherwise somber face, and she even allowed him a very small chuckle. “I guess I’m worse at hiding it than I thought,” she said. For a moment, she struggled not to spill her heart out at Cain’s hooves, and she bit her lip to keep the feelings contained. Sure, she knew it was useless to say anything, but what if it was worse than that? What if he pushed her away if she admitted how messed up she truly felt? It was this fear that caused her to change the subject, and for a few relief-filled moments Cerosi was distracted.

Then Cain stomped his hoof, and Cerosi flinched. Within her, two very different emotions quarreled, and she froze in place as they duked it out in her mind. She felt there was nothing she could do but watch herself struggle, and so she did, until one or the other emerged victorious.

On the one hand - the objectively stronger one at first - the stomp had scared her despite it being such a small movement and coming from a place of protectiveness and love. She felt she had no choice but to metaphorically show her belly and submit, though she knew it was not an act of dominance from the tobiano stallion. She had been conditioned, and even now, that conditioning held her tight after so many seasons.

On the other hand, it was eye-opening to see such a fierce display of something so good. She knew Cain had fought for her freedom, as well as many others’, but she hadn’t actually been there to see it. Now she was witnessing a very small sample of the same spirit that had driven him to fight Ironclad for her right to choose. It was extremely liberating, and she felt enveloped in a way she had never felt before. It was not a trapping feeling, but more of a comfortable embrace, and as she mentally leaned into the new feeling, the grip of fear began to loosen.

When she heard Cain’s soft voice again, she discovered she had stood up. The painted stallion had moved closer, and his warm breath puffed against her cheek as his muzzle moved to hover below her jaw. She waited for the touch, unsure whether or not she wanted it, and discovering in its absence that she did want it. She didn’t really comprehend his words, but she understood the message and appreciated it. But the need for physical affection seemed to drown out most other thoughts, and she tilted her head so that her face pressed against Cain’s. It was a small touch, but it felt like miles for her, even after the steps she had taken with Ironclad. That had been a different kind of touch, one she thought she had been ready for. She knew now that lust was not what she wanted.

She said nothing, just rested her face against Cain’s broad forehead. After a moment, she shifted so that she was next to him, but facing the opposite direction. She lifted her chin to rest her head on his hip and let out a sigh, feeling the storm of emotions slowly begin to settle. This kind of touch was absolutely new to Cerosi, and part of her rebelled against it, but she fought back. She knew she needed it, despite her apprehension and fear.