No Time for Lies and Empty Fights
The supple icing of loose sand across the parched, packed terrain squirmed and slithered beneath the weight of each tread, his swinging, committed stride stirring as he went plumes of upset dust which danced a low-lying trail in his wake. Luscious, intertwined hues of amber and gold hair dressing and concealing the tip of his long leonine tail, snapped sharply left and right through the rust cloud, like that of an engrossed feline; though Hector was no predator hunting, the stallion was merely surveying the near vicinity as it trickled by their path, with sharp, clever eyes. Rarely did he patrol in such fashion; knees thrusting heavy steps upon the earth while huge flame-flecked wings clutched anxiously, feverishly, to either side of his rocking barrel. It was an unusual feeling, but he was more than content to stroll so primitively in the company of the mare.
In more time than he was used to; but less time still then expected, Hector diligently behind Rasta, pulled alongside the flares of lush emerald fern and ribbon-like palm fronds. A cool shade engulfed them, and the respite from that intense burning nature of the desert was quite instant. The soldier paused to shake the strapping length of his body, though no dust expelled from his sleek canvasing coat while sweat dribbled and draped across it. His full-length, damp mane slapped aggressively each slant of his switching neck, culling the plague of complacent flies which had hitched a ride upon the flinch of his hide. He felt invigorated enough by the welcome change in environment alone, and hastened to reach again the slipstream swirling behind his colleague.
She paused by the lake’s rim, apparently thirsty also. In unison; unintentional harmony, their skulls dropped to sample the finest of the Throat’s elements side by side; the cool crystal water of the lake which was constantly nourished by the sweet, pure liquid coursing through networks of deep subterranean veins below the desert. So unique was the clean taste of the lake, that Hector sank his lips still deeper; savouring the flavour, and despising the filth he had been subject to during his time away. Without his stomach filled, the stallion felt the rasp of thirst dissolve in his throat and parted from the surface prematurely. He simply did not need to drink as much here.
Rasta’s leg struck the tranquil surface around the same time that his face lifted away and the spray cast aside from her small hoof fell also upon the lowest length of one of his own hardy forelimbs. With wavering ears settling curiously upon her, and large almond-shaped eyes wandering to find the pretty face adorning her lean skull, Hector let free a small smirk into his expression; twitching tail all the while, betraying the rare side of mild mischief at his rear.
The pale mare sank innocently enough into the cool cushion of sand beneath them, touching peacefully her pelt against the quiet lap of the water. Everything about her this day seemed so dignified and delicate; quiet and calm. The soldier’s haunches coiled tightly then, as she settled comfortably, wings peeling from the ripple of his damp side in an instant, and he pushed forward into the lake beside her with a heaving grunt. The water was flung both left and right when the mass of his considerable frame collided upon it, hurling over the poor resting Equine an obnoxious wave. He did not pull up quickly after the cunning assault, instead sinking much deeper than she had chosen to, to quell the heat in his body. Beyond the bar of sand offering the safety of a shallow haven, Hector paddled profusely to stay afloat and appeared to glide in a wide circle with all but his upturned skull, unfurled wings, buoyant mane, and tail beneath. Seeking her reaction primarily, he looked to where she had been with a gaze, sparkling and entertained.
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