hard to be soft, tough to be tender ;
She never thought too long about what came next. Every moment was supposed to be lived in and well used up–no room for regrets. Yara didn’t think about the past either, at least not too much. She tried to live in the moment with all four hooves. Planted squarely in the middle of a stream that always seemed to be rushing around her.
Maybe there were things she didn’t want to think about, or maybe she just believed in something larger than herself. A mix of both would probably be closer to the truth.
When the stallion approaches she is caught off guard and at the sound of his voice, the speckled mare jumps slightly. Her head lifted as her blue eyes looked over him. She relaxes within a split second and laughs softly at what he says. “Thank you,” Yara gives him a coy smile and lowers her head down to snatch the feather between her teeth.
The young mare reaches towards the strange stallion and tries to tuck the feather into his mane before stepping back. “You keep it,” she tells him. Her eyes bright against the darkness of her face, with only those two thin white line markings running from mouth just under her eyes.
“So you can remember me,” Yara says and backs away from him. “I reckon I would be easy to forget but a feather, you’ll think of me every time you see a bird.”
She laughs again, unsure how he might react to her forwardness.