†
He is, admittedly, surprised when her response to his blocking her path is to lunge and deliver a sharp bite to his withers. It is one thing to warn a stranger away during introductions, to indicate a strong boundary, and something else entirely to respond to a blocked path with immediate violence. Temblor's response is to stand his ground and endure the bite, knocking his own clenched teeth against the skin of her neck in passive rebuke. Had she been a stallion, such aggression would not have been unexpected, and would have been responded to in kind, if not started by himself. But she is a mare, and a stranger on his land, and he is not so uncivilized as to try to draw blood the moment she presents some sort of obstacle.
He steps out of her path and snorts, ears twisting back as he watches her flounce forward. Then he follows and, curious as to how short her fuse is, tests the limits of her patience by encroaching on her space in small, passive ways— drawing near enough for the heat of their bodies to mingle, or make the lightest brush of his shoulder near her hip. Each time she hops and flings a hoof out at him, warning him away.
Interesting.
His shoulder stings, but he ignores it, instead lagging back a bit to avoid any impulsive kicks. He watches her navigate though the jungle, and when she stops abruptly he allows himself to carefully close the distance between them, wary for retaliation, until he is just shy of her left hip. It is interesting how fluid her boundaries are. She tolerates much more at a standstill than when in motion. He makes note of this, and if and when she should move again he will remain out of kicking range. Temblor is not stupid.
Her question suggests she suspects he has some ulterior motive. Temblor's only motive is to learn more about this mare, and see if she will complement the herd he intends to gather. "It would be a pity," he replies, though she has already turned her attention elsewhere. The jungle is a dense, difficult thing which seems to rebuff all who enter it, either with its extreme humidity or endless rains or all manner of the strange wildlife which seem to thrive within the tightly packed plant-life. He would not be surprised if she struggled to find what it is she seeks. It is a foreign land, strange compared to rolling meadows or an oak forest, but it obviously supports all manner of life. He has had no trouble surviving here. She moves right, and Temblor does likewise. "What is your name?" he asks as they walk.
TEMBLOR
& swallows you whole
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