Preoccupied with the feeling of having her first foal suckle from her, Hirka hadn’t noticed the stallion as she should have. So, when he nickered to her, the mare’s head whipped around, and she pinned him with a sharp stare. Ears flicking back (not pinning) and forth, she wasn’t sure how she felt as he drew closer. His scent was familiar from the land, but not to his face as she had never met him before. It made Hirka feel all the more on edge, being confronted with a stranger when she wasn’t sure if he could still even see her legs shaking beneath her or not.


“Is that all you’ve come to say, Castillion, second of the Prairie?” Hirka bit out, her ears finally lacing back into the wet knots of her mane. “It doesn’t seem as if your sorry at all.” The mare wasn’t sure where these words were coming from, or why they held such a venomous edge to them. Hirka had always been wild like the wind coming in before a storm. A smile of confidence, a swagger in her step, and a challenging glint in her eyes. Perhaps a hereditary trait from her bloodline, or simply the wild nature of her own heart. If the situation had been different, Hirka might have strode up to the stallion as if she weren’t the trespasser. Perhaps teased him into a race or a spar, and then disappeared into the sunset. Hoping to leave the lingering taste for him to want more. Instead, she felt like a snarling, hurt wolf backed into a corner.


Hirka shifted her stance, hiding Zahara behind her to the best of her ability. While also hoping to make herself seem more stable, and strong. A bluff that Hirka wasn’t sure how long she could hold. “What do you want?” she hissed hatefully.

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mare | 15.3hhs | Ee aa nCh nT nSb| Homeless

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