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04-27-2013, 09:35 AM
 When she said, “I am coping.” I frowned, my eyes flickered to her soft form now enlarged swelling. Was it because of the baby that she appeared so let down? Ktulu hadn’t mentioned that her sister was pregnant, nor had she hinted upon a mate that had been dug up. At least we were both on the same page; or so I could assume, that it was romantic problems which caused Ophelia to seem depressed. I turned away politely, not saying anything more. I knew very little about the struggles of being with child, but one thing was certain—mares got hormonal around this time, and stallions were best seen and unheard. Or so I had gathered from lingering too long in their presence.
“You look unsettled.” Closest ear flicked back a notch, one eye swiveled to glance at her with surprise. She had tenderness in those dual colored orbs, one that I had seen often when those took pity on what they saw. It was my turn to stiffen and frown, head swiveled back to her—a smile started to plaster itself across my facade but for some reason it faltered when she added, “What happened.” Just like that. My matchbox self-fell apart, gaze drifted down and I didn’t try to fake smile. Push her pressings away for the sake of conversation. I needed someone to talk to about life struggles—someone who would understand. Was she that person? When asked a direct question I didn’t want to beat around the bush so my lips parted with truth ringing, “Ktulu asked me to come with her….to the Foothills,” I began with something simple, wondering if she would understand the hidden meaning, “I desire to give her everything, yet— I withhold myself when requested to join her company.” It wasn’t just. Land. It was my land, my home, my family. Our colours come alive when I collide with you
with you, with you
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