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12-22-2012, 07:57 PM
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S V E T L A N A The StormChaser His scent comes to me. His scent- the scent of a traitor, the scent of a thief of titles. My mouth twists wryly- his title is so very suiting for him. The King of Thieves he is and forever will be, and it is a poor thing for him, not a good one. I, at least, will always be chasing a new dream- but he is a lowly thief, even if he has beat me down and away. Another scent comes along with it, the scent of two, the scent of Foothills. I watch him gallop towards me, looking for all in the world the righteous horse he is meant to be; but it doesn't ease my injured pride and so I pin my ears to my skull in disgust; for he is only a liar and a traitor, as far as I am concerned. At his sides come two black horses- neither of them I saw in my reign- and the two of them come thundering along with him like a right pair of stock. Ah! How long has it been since I said 'stock'? Curst my tonguth! But I let the stubbornness ebb from my bodice, and instead I turn, my head seeking the feathers of my left wing, teeth meticulously returning each black feather back to order; I did think highly of myself, I would not lie; but so was a fault found in many horses; and now I had, at least, realized I was not invincible as I was in Svikruch; maybe they were simply better warriors; but, maybe my skills have deteoriated. Finally when the russet horse and his night-shaded sidekicks did be a bit closer did I return my attention to him below the rocks, and I tip an ear forward idly, but he doesn't speak, even though every line of his body indicates his want for me to leave. But I am a sore loser, and so I sigh softly and try to push away the lesser emotions. "Jackal, Jackal. If you trust the loyalty of your horses, and none come, I will leave; but you have made an enemy, you already know." I pause, my black eyes seeking his. "Of course, would you not let a mother fetch her child? Or maybe your morals are even lower than I know." I outstretch a black wing, turning it before me to inspect the disheveled feathers of my right. Humph. "You won fair and square. Now let me have my chance to have any who are loyal come with me- if they are not loyal, so be it, and you have my well wishes." I stare down at the orange boy, eyes sharp and cold. As much as I wish I had dignity left, I have little; surely he must grant me this. I take off, wings thumping, putting myself into the air above the three- for the two large equines are intimidating, but at least they can't fly. Ten feet, twenty feet; there I hover, there I stop, eyes narrow, and say; "Good. Bye. Don't forget me." walk walk walk "talk talk talk"  |
