Meadow

“Oh,” she says. Her golden ears fix on him and she grins.

This stallion looked like he had seen better days. His body was riddled with the signs of his struggle, each fight etched into his thick skin. Echidna understood. Yes, she did indeed. But did she care? Not in the least. “So touchy.” Her voice is raspy, there is a heaviness to it. Her tail gently swats at her spotted sides and she shrugs at him.

He turns away from her, heading off in another direction. Probably so he might continue to be old and rot away in the hummus. “Old men tend to be crankier, I've found. They also cry more often. That why you don’t want anyone around?” Echidna turns herself towards him, her mouth perked into the slightest smile.

How long had it been since she actually talked to someone else? Echidna wasn’t the best at conversation, she couldn’t coherently remember anyone enjoying her company in many years.

She takes a step or two after him, her own scars rippling along her hide. “Listen,” she says behind him, “we’re both too old to be spitting insults at each other. Wrong place, wrong time. I don’t know who you are but ….”

Echidna trails off, not even sure where she was going with her speech. “Well,” she grumbles under her breath for a moment, “I appreciate your style at least.”