Meadow

In the days since her re-election, the Peaks had once again begun to grow quiet. Stagnant seemed to be the thriving philosophy that the mountain mares had taken too over the years, but it was not one that Khar herself shared. She has hopes of course, that Marceline and Ysabel’s determination might aid in the rebuilding of the once fierce warriors, but it is a feeble leader who relies too heavily on the willpower of others.
With frustrations rising, the dawn colored woman sets out on her own, tracing the familiar pathways down from the high mountain reaches. It would do her no good to stand around all day sulking, nor would taking out her frustrations on Diccon or whatever else poor soul happened to look at her in the wrong manner. Sharp, ocean winds tossled her inky mane as her striped hooves found purchase on the malleable earth already strewn with leaves of various shades of red, yellow and brown. A reminder to her that already, winter was not long in the shadows of the forests of the islands. Already, the promise of it’s cold grasp could be seen in the icy sheen of frozen dew and dusting snows in the highland grasses that wound themselves through the peaks. It would not be long now. It is the promise that she reminds herself.
Though she had so far managed to avoid the pull of a stallion’s scent this season, Khar’pern cannot help but wonder if somewhere below her own consciousness, that is what draws her to the meadows this day. It would be a lie if she tried to deny the burning desires that welled deep inside. Witnessing the black stallion’s brutal assault on the unnamed mare had helped to stifle that longing, but as nature demanded it remained. Raven tipped ears peel backwards as the strengthening odor of stallion’s gives new heights to the lustful burning inside her. Paper-thin nostrils flare wide, drinking in the unfamiliar scents that mingle with the familiar sweet grass and pines of the meadow. Crystalline ooids cast a roaming glance over the rolling meadow that stretches before her now. There were far too many stallion’s for her taste. She told herself that she was searching for the black beast but so far, none that her gaze lingered on seemed to fit his description.
Until the moment one did.
Well, almost did.
Black as night. Black as death. The key feature in the monster that will forever haunt her memories. Blackness. The dark coat catches her attention from across the field. Rose colored brows narrow as dark lips peel back in anger. Frustration is evident in the taunt muscles of the dark form as it lashes out at a dense stand of brush. The motion, all too much for her to miss. She had not saved the poor mare from him before, but she would be damned if he got away with it a second or third time without her intervention.
Filled with raging hormones she charges across the meadow, scattering startled souls in the wake of her fury. Curved ears. A trait she had forgotten until now, until faced with the possibility of making the beast pay for his crimes. Yet as she approached, the face that turned towards her is not that of the curve-eared monster.
Heels dig into the rich, dark soil as she slows her rapid gait to something akin to a prancing halt. Ears that had moments ago been laced tightly to her skullcap now rise to focus on a face with the same angry snarl and disgusted fury. A mare. The scent of estrogen is hard to miss during this season in particular. Shamefully she dips her finely dished crown in apology. ”My bad…” she mumbles, exhaling a hard snort in an effort to quell the broiling vehemence inside her. ”I thought you were someone else.”
Wisely she chooses to keep the fact that she mistook the woman for a stallion to herself. No need to piss her off any further for there was no denying the mare was fuming. Curiosity once more got the best of the Peak mare. If she were honest, it would be her downfall one day she is sure. A single fluted lobe flicks sideways as a half-smile ghosts across her ash dusted lips. ”I would not want to be the one to face your fury.” she remarks, glancing down at the tattered shrub the mare’s jagged hooves had carved apart. It was a half-hearted attempt at humor, half-hearted in that somehow she hoped the amusement in her tone might cover the anger and rage that had come with her sudden approach. No doubt the stranger had felt the threat. Who wouldn’t have?
She blinks absently, turning her gaze back to the dark face. Golden eyes. Golden eyes? Yes! The black beast had the eyes of a predator. Eyes that bore into one’s soul and clenched tightly around her own lungs to stifle the scream of rage and horror that burned in her lungs. The eyes that gazed back at her were furious, but not the same bright golden hue. She gives her proud head a shake, ridding herself of the memory of the beast for the time being. No doubt she already looked like a creep, no need to add to the list of reasons why the dark mare should flee from her companionship. ”My name is Khar’pern. You are?” It is an attempt at social politeness, something that has never been her strongest trait but she was trying nonetheless. From the look of the obsidian mare, Khar cannot help but to expect some sort of ‘fuck off’ comment, but at least she can say she tried right?

Khar'pern

The jungle is dark but full of diamonds;