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07-02-2012, 09:45 PM
For a moment his mother’s gait picks up energy. The behemoth of clouds above them boils with a great intensity, one that should lift their spirits. The rain is a touch he might savor for such a day like this, as small and tender kisses or in violent lustful rages. Perhaps to recapture his mind in the throes of nature, far from the previous road they’ve travelled for weeks. To quell his anxious spirit, shake it off like old grime and dirt and just - breathe.
This idea convulses however, breaks and draws inwards when he is finally able to detect someone approaching them. He pushes forwards with sharp eyes, standing ahead of his mother as they stop to the sound of a noise, a welcome drifting out from the shadows and heeding them. Still, no longer musical they are like fauna, so very rigid and cautious of the one who now meets them. This initial reaction is shed very easily. The one called Enapay watches the dark body, highlighted by moonlit strands and marking; there is no sign of hostile pursuit in the intensity of the mare’s gate, especially by the weight of that smile – however light – drifting forwards as though it should be a quiet sigh.
A sigh that echoes easily into both minds.
Enapay can detect her concern which seems to sharpen his intrigue. He can already feel an opposing force blooming inside of him however, irritated, prideful; the stallion that has been decorated by the scars on his left cheek does not need concern.
“Yes… yes, dear one. Rest, in body and soul I hope.” He flinches inwardly at the words that rise up, unashamed from behind him. His mother steps forwards, a warm smile graces her features as gold rimmed eyes lock onto the stranger, her voice trailing in the back of his head. Instead he glances thoughtfully towards Namid before devoting his full attention towards the mare, eyes that remain neutral and sheltered from emotion.
“We have travelled long, much like the ones who have set out before us.” If he had been embarrassed because of Namid he showed none of it. Did her words concoct a desperate pair before this mare? He could only continue to speculate, watch carefully and roll with the frank, carefree speech of his mother. She spoke truthfully at least.
“I am Enapay of the Dawn People.” Of the Abenaki; it roars inside, before continuing on. Keeping his gaze and gesturing towards his mother by briefly grazing her neck with his muzzle. “My mother, Namid.”
This idea convulses however, breaks and draws inwards when he is finally able to detect someone approaching them. He pushes forwards with sharp eyes, standing ahead of his mother as they stop to the sound of a noise, a welcome drifting out from the shadows and heeding them. Still, no longer musical they are like fauna, so very rigid and cautious of the one who now meets them. This initial reaction is shed very easily. The one called Enapay watches the dark body, highlighted by moonlit strands and marking; there is no sign of hostile pursuit in the intensity of the mare’s gate, especially by the weight of that smile – however light – drifting forwards as though it should be a quiet sigh.
A sigh that echoes easily into both minds.
Enapay can detect her concern which seems to sharpen his intrigue. He can already feel an opposing force blooming inside of him however, irritated, prideful; the stallion that has been decorated by the scars on his left cheek does not need concern.
“Yes… yes, dear one. Rest, in body and soul I hope.” He flinches inwardly at the words that rise up, unashamed from behind him. His mother steps forwards, a warm smile graces her features as gold rimmed eyes lock onto the stranger, her voice trailing in the back of his head. Instead he glances thoughtfully towards Namid before devoting his full attention towards the mare, eyes that remain neutral and sheltered from emotion.
“We have travelled long, much like the ones who have set out before us.” If he had been embarrassed because of Namid he showed none of it. Did her words concoct a desperate pair before this mare? He could only continue to speculate, watch carefully and roll with the frank, carefree speech of his mother. She spoke truthfully at least.
“I am Enapay of the Dawn People.” Of the Abenaki; it roars inside, before continuing on. Keeping his gaze and gesturing towards his mother by briefly grazing her neck with his muzzle. “My mother, Namid.”
