[ mhr gha SEER ah ]
Fell
▻ Sarama | Shvana ◅
He deflates only the more, hearing her say the things that hangs like boulders around her neck. He hisses out a sound and she can almost, almost, hear the forlorn reply. He knew. It rankles, it also softens her after the initial bristle. He knew, then where was he. He knew, but here he was contrite and sad. It makes her hate herself a bit for her contentiousness. Losing her daughter had hardened something inside of her that was contented to simply be cared for and tended to and left be. She had been a soft rose once, but now she was a briar rose instead. She had more thorns, woken up to the vulnerability that came from her hot-house kept state.
She overflowed her glass protections and burst through the walls that encased her since her birth. She learned that she must be wilder, more alive, than that stagnated self. She had to bite back so that idle foraging wouldn’t strip her of her beauty and youth. She flattens her ears at him and it is the first hint of those thorns showing through.
He does not speak of his missing her, but she does not expect it. She didn’t doubt that he regretted the loss of the little filly. What gets her, though, is that he seems to simper and sigh more than he seemed capable of supporting her shoulder, of being the strength she had married into the promise of. She had not married a wilting lily. She had married the well-rumored hound who spoke nothing but felt and did much. The only reason she did not lash out with her feelings is because of that second bit. He felt much.
He has no doubt he felt much, so she tries to withhold her mistrust and misgivings. She looks down, gazing through his mane and past his big head to his self-mutilated chest. Without thinking, the rush of her feelings breaks through that composure she had promised to hold in his presence. She is suddenly chest into him, ramming her chest into the bites on his over and over. She lunges with her hind legs heavy coil and spring, battering at him with the fullness of her childless weight. "This is what you do to mourn her!?"
She is mad at him, mad that he was wallowing where she had fought tooth and nail to crawl her way out. She is mad that they were sad but he preferred to pick his body to pieces instead of build it stronger against a repeat of that failure. She is desperate, afraid that any future that might have been had was stolen away by the woman who had fled them all and left her husband in self-inflicted despair. She strikes pivots then, lunging backwards instead of forwards, her heels kicked up at him until he did something to save himself. "STEP UP." More kicks, more flailed hips, shrill whining whinnies of boss mare level irritation streaking like lightning up her throat.
OF THE TINUVEL BAY
▻ five years - arabian x kathiawari - maximum chestnut sabino - 14.2 hh ◅