|
Cal actually opened her other eye, such was her interest in the old palomino gal. The dejected looking thing held herself with such desolation and hopelessness, trying to keep a stiff upper lip and failing as it continued to droop lower and lower. Once more she moved with that awkwardness attributed to an adolescent, seemingly quietly shocked at the words that spewed forth from her wrinkly maw. The response she gave Cal was suspicious in itself.
*"No one spe-shul"*
Cal had met plenty of strangers in her time, and more than a few of them refused to give her their real name upon the first meeting. Such was understandable, in Cal’s opinion; names are powerful things in the wrong hands. One would like to keep safe their own identity for the simple sake of safety to their own person, but this mare answered with a wistful sigh that transcended the desire for privacy. It were as though the palomino were lashing herself with her own words; making herself believe them, that she was, indeed, no one “spe-shul”. Cal wasn’t a nosy mare by nature, but now, more than ever, she really wanted to know this mare’s story.
“Well then, Spe-shul,” Cal said in proud greeting, cackling a little at her own joke in an effort to make light of the mare’s mood, “nice t’ make your acquaintance, then. Cal,” she spoke, deciding it was fair to give her own name in response. Cal had nothing to hide from, at this point; if something were trying to chase her down and kill her, they had the chance while she insisted on laying her bony-ass on the ground.
“Enjoying the sun?”
Cal looked up at the red-gold stallion as he addressed her; his face was open and his eyes interested as his gaze rested on Cal, and she was well pleased with his conduct. “Mmmhmm,” she nodded, the warm breeze tousling the sparse hairs on her mane once more and threatening her eyelids to become heavy, “’bout time, too,” she added, shifting her leg out from underneath her as she spoke; the poor thing was starting to fall asleep. “You got a name, Jimmy?” Cal suddenly shot at him in her usual gruff manner, but there was no animosity in her voice. She lifted her wings a fraction from their resting place on her back; the muscles were still somewhat stiff, but the soreness was gone and she could feel her muscles healing from her last arduous flight. This place was flat enough, without the danger of tumbling from thousands of feet; perhaps, a little later, she would try her luck in the skies again? Without trying to execute death-defying aerials?
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
