I thought that I was hungry for blood
Maybe I'm just hungry for love
Tear from a woman on the shore
You prairie ghost on a cottage hall
Oh, the mermaids have sharp teeth
Razor blades all in your feet
She does not hear him at first.
Locked in her own little world, nestled into the darkness. Ysée could picture them in her mind, she could smell their wet coats and their blood and hear their voicesーlike vipers they would hiss into her ears.
Bite her.
Injecting her with their venom.
The little mare shudders, her lip twitches. She can feel the ripple of her skin. Half-awake nightmares. Half a scream in her throat. Acid bubbles in her veins, it burns her until those honey colored eyes flash open. Ysée jerks her head up. Dazed, she looks around herself and when her eyes settle on the strange a few feet away there’s an audible gasp一it’s the sound of drowning.
She feels choked all of sudden and shakes her head. She gasps for air. His voice comes towards her, it flies up like a murder of crows. The mare thrusts her front legs out in front of her and gets up onto her feet. She shakes the dirt and salt from her coat. He sounds nervous, awkward.
Not like them, she tells herself.
He’s not like them.
But the fear pulses through her. It makes her lungs work harder, makes her heart thrum like hummingbird wings. Her eyes turned on him. They are not so different, both inky and unsure.
They stand with the long, black shadow of the tree between them. Like a pool. She does not offer to wade towards him. Her days of swimming are done, or so she thinks. Ysée opens her mouth but no sound comes out. She abruptly closes it. How long had it been since she last spoke? They did not like it when she talked back, they had taught her with cruelty to remain silent.
Her tiny ears flick back, then forward. She backs up gently, bumps the tree, and hops forward tail swatting at her sides.
Panic.
“P-please,” the black mare stutters. Her head lowers, her eyes are shut tight. “Please don’t tell them you found me here.” But there’s a new horror dawning on her like a lightning strike. She takes a cautious step towards him, her eyes round like full moons or fireflies.
“Don’t … I didn’t mean it,”
A pause, brief and constricted.
“To speak, I didn’t,” Ysée looks from side to side. She doesn’t know if she should stand her ground or run far from the black stallion.