A squealed scream split the air, followed shortly by the drumming of hooves and deep-chested laughter. Zevulun chased the nearly-all-white rump of his daughter, her pale tail flagged off her hind and her long legs gathering under her as she ran from him. He didn’t run as fast as he could, giving her the illusion of outrunning him, but he grinned as he took note that any time he pushed more speed into his gait, Sidra did as well. He’d driven her from her hiding spot among the cottonwoods she’d been tucked behind, which had been why she’d screamed out and then giggled as she ran.
Two other foals were hiding nearby too, his other daughter Vernonia, and his son, Castillon. Zevulun snorted, drawing up his gait with choppy steps to stop his weight, sides heaving slightly with the exertion from their little run. He watched Sidra run a few more steps, stop, turn and grin wildly back at him. “Hah!” She shouted. “Told ya I was too fast, dad!”
Zevulun grinned, lowering his head and gathering himself as though he was intending to start off after her again. But all he did was leap forward, watching as her eyes went wide and she scrambled her little legs underneath her to turn about and trot off. When she realized he was only playing with her, she flicked her ears back and stomped a little hoof at him. Zevulun chuckled, then turned to glance off toward his children’s other favorite hiding places whenever they played hide ‘n seek together.
As he did a call split the air, a beckoning whinny that he didn’t recognize. Zevulun stilled, head immediately high and ears perked forward. He bellowed a call of his own, an answering one to let the stranger know they’d been heard and to stay put. Zevulun glanced over at Sidra, “Go back to the herd,” he called out before starting forward, hoping the other children might stay where they were hiding or go back themselves once they noticed the game was over.
Zevulun crested one of the sloping hills of his home, yellowed grass parting as he walked through it, blue eyes curious on the painted stallion he saw ahead. There was something familiar about him, despite Zevulun being certain he’d never seen him before.
“Hello,” he called out as he drew near, and opened his mouth to both welcome him and ask his business, when he was interrupted by a smaller voice.
“Hi!” It was Sidra, who had decided not to return to the herd like he’d asked. Zevulun closed his mouth and fixed her with a look, of which she had the decency to look mostly ashamed. Movement behind him made him turn his head, noticing the approach of his other two children he’d been playing with who must’ve seen both Zevulun and Sidra approach the stranger from where they’d been hiding. Vernonia was staying much further behind, watchful and worried. She waited only a few moments before she turned about and trotted off the opposite way, likely going to find her mother or the herd for safety. Castillon, however, lifted his chin and trotted with high steps, assertively approaching the small gathering.
Zevulun looked back at the stallion, sighed into a smile and said, “Welcome to the Prairie. I’m Zevulun, the lead.” He paused and bent his chin to touch Sidra’s neck. “This is my daughter Sidra and this,” he glanced at the approaching gold, black, and white colt, “is my son-”
“Castillon.” The colt said proudly, chin still high.
Zevulun smiled faintly, then looked back at the stranger. “What brings you to our home?”
|
