It wasn’t quite the oddity of him that confused me. I felt a nervous impulse retreating from my brain, and perhaps it was completely inspired by the way I’d approached him through the autumn grasses of the hazy heart. I knew it wrong to disrespect him by his own reaction to me, but a thought that only lingered overwhelmed my sensations and pulled me down to him. I was pulled in somehow by him, and that itself I couldn’t manage to get over. His eyes floated in the night, swimming to mine to examine as a colt would to his first drink of snowy lake, and I didn’t know the thickness of their ice. His subtlety was something I wasn’t used to. Most stallions held brashness to their arrogance, but his, as tiny as it was, reminded me of something too familiar to place a hoof.
I’m sure I didn’t like how unspecific he was.
I watched him study me and it occurred that he may be simply learning from the authority. I could tell by the number of his wounds and the thickness of his shoulders that he was seasoned, and much more mature than my physique gave me credit for. He was out of the stage where they thrashed their young strength to play power, now he was learning to use his tongue. He was a quick learner.
‘Another ache on winter nights.’
In his rebound of words, the ice in his voice was much smoother; he melted it down to snow. My ears pricked out of interest and my tail swished in silent agreement to his observation.
‘As you already seem to know, Sinbird.’
Then I realized he was poking at me, feeling around for the right softer spots of me that brought an unspeakable amount of composure to withstand. He couldn’t break me. However I remembered myself and sighed deeply, and exhale that softly whispered a croon of vapor into the chill of the night. I wanted him to feel like he caught me. I wanted him to think I was honest.
“Ah, well I’ll agree we’ve all had our handful of unfortunate run-ins,” I said sadly, letting my head droop a few inches from my crooning neck. “I assume that’s what happens when we’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I looked up at him and he was surely still studying. I studied back, feeling almost true, letting him see an arc of sadness linger in the hazel mix of eye colors. My ears fell from their standing. Oh he hit a truly hard spot of me to think about. I remembered my sleeping child and chuckled mentally. I had a feeling I could put this boy to good use in the desert mirages. Perhaps he could find a way through the blinding sun just as he could find his way to me in an hour as dark as this.
“Dreven, may I ask where you’ll be going tonight?” His thigh was in a dire sort of state of attention desperation. There were plenty of medics I could wake, especially in earning a prize of strength and power as he owned. The Throat needed it. The Throat needed him.
Sumati the Sinbird
there's no thunder to warn you that I'll bring you to your knees |
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[P] I died a long time ago, in that worn out war
