What do you mean? You haven't ever thought of what they would be like? Aventuras’s two-colored ears flicked out and then back, feeling a hot swell of shame and the familiar confusion that followed. “No! I haven’t.” She said more firmly, despite hearing the doubt in Margarita’s tone. Aventuras had known it was quite strange not to have daydreamed about it, and she privately continued to wrestle with not understanding why that was as Margarita pushed on, explaining everything she already thought of for her potential mate.
Everything she said made sense to Aventuras, making the young mare wonder why she didn’t have any thoughts like that herself. Of course she should shy away from other white-marked horses; their entire family was a sea of intriguing paint marks. Yet even as Margarita said so, and Aventuras privately agreed, she still didn’t feel herself latching on to the idea for her future either. Every time she considered the prospect of a mate, the idea in her head was nothing more than a blurred shape, changing colors, body-structure and size, never once nailing down to anything in particular.
You really haven't thought about it at all? “No,” Aventuras admitted again, this time frowning as she picked up pace to keep in-step with her sister. “I just can’t picture it.” But she couldn’t picture some wild, free life of travel with multitudes of lovers like her mother had before she settled in the Cove, either. All she could see was home, the Cove, and her sisters and her mother and father and Nico and everything she’d known thus far.
It really wasn’t long at all before the girls approached, their trot pulled up short by the approach of a lean, muscular stallion. Initially Aventuras mistook his dark coat for black, but as the winter sun broke free of a few clouds and reached down toward them she noticed a few patches of rich brown. Aventuras noticed his eyes lingered on her and she wished they wouldn’t - wished he’d show his attention to Margarita, who was surely more apt to deal with the attention of a strange stallion. Or so, it sounded like she was.
...you’re much prettier than he ever was.
Aventuras cheeks felt hot and her eyes dropped shyly to the ground, down his long legs. “Oh- uh- thank you-” she said meekly, because she thought that was the nice thing to say when a stallion paid her a compliment by telling her she was pretty. Aventuras brought her eyes back up his front, catching a few battle-won scars along his hide. He had a winter coat, but it was nothing like the thick, shaggy layers the horses on Tinuvel grew to survive the season on their northern island. “I’m Aventuras,” she looked at Margarita, “This is my sister, Margarita.”
Maybe if she introduced Margarita, the stallion wouldn’t have eyes for just her. Margarita would be more apt to handle this social situation with grace far better than Aventuras could ever hope to.
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