As her ears turned back and pulled against her neck, Castillon froze mid-step. One dark knee was held a little higher toward his chest and he slowly lowered it back down just as the golden mare turned her ears forward. She wasn’t looking at him, but past him, and she echoed a part of his words before she started to move forward again.
Castillon frowned, tilting his head as he glanced down his back and watched her walk into his home. With a snort he turned his head forward and pulled himself forward, then around, trailing in a semi-circle behind her before he caught up to where she was walking. Just as he did, Castillon caught her words. I didn't know it could be...like this. He frowned, glancing off and around them. The Prairie was beautiful (although his opinion may have been biased) but the way she said it made it sound like so much more than a meaningless compliment.
She cleared her throat and looked at him, and Castillon appeared briefly surprised to have her full attention. He blinked a couple of times and realized she’d asked him a question. “No, it’s not mine, it’s my father’s.” Castillon explained, then watched as she sniffed at the flowers. “But one day, if I prove myself a good leader of my own herd, my father will entrust me to lead the entire Prairie.” He tried to say that with the confidence he knew he was supposed to feel, but just saying the words set a tight knot in his belly. He swallowed back against it, shoving it down where he pushed all the other feelings he didn’t want to spend time focusing on, and shifted his attention entirely back onto her.
His head tilted somewhat, rich brown eyes studying her pretty, soft gold face. There was something about watching her look across the Prairie that was almost mesmerizing to him. He was far too young and inexperienced to understand it, but all he knew was that he wanted to keep showing her around the Prairie where he hoped to inspire more moments of wonder across her expression. “It’s even more beautiful in the spring,” he said, glancing out across the rolling hills of green grass, “the entire hills are streaked in all sorts of colors, there’s so many wildflowers grown out over them.”
He smiled, then shifted his weight somewhat as if to shrug. “Though that doesn’t mean autumn doesn’t have its charm,” he smiled somewhat playfully as if to imply he was also a part of the Prairie's charm; there it was, the chip off the ol’ block, “There’s a small grove of pomegranate trees just a little ways northeast of here, and the fruit is perfectly ripe right now.” Castillon wondered aloud, “Have you tried a pomegranate before?”
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