Falls

Cocky as he was, Boone was not stupid. He could see the mare's sneer even before he reached her and could feel the waves of hostility rippling off her, not unlike those of the pool beside them. When he stretched out his neck toward her shoulder, his body was taut with vigilance, ready to jerk away at the first flash of the mare's teeth. He welcomed the odd love-bite here and there, but he had not maintained his pristine gold-and-white coat without exercizing caution.

Still, the threat of violence had only ever goaded him. The adrenaline—the readiness of his body to either dodge or meet each blow with his own, like a snake writhing and twisting and striking—fueled him. It was rare he regretted approaching a mare, regardless of whether his attentions were wanted or not.

Of course, Boone rarely regretted anything.

And so he was already laughing when the mare's teeth touched the hide of his neck, jerking away in a flash to leave her with nothing but a few stray hairs in her mouth. His flaxen tail whisked across his hinquarters with increased fervor, and his eyes danced with merriment as he watched her, his ears pricked and his proud neck arched.

"I don't recall there bein' any law against looking at a pretty lady," he teased with a tilt of his head. "You're welcome to look right back at me, y' know—I may be a cur, but I'm a damn good-lookin' one, ain't I?" He flashed another smile.