I freeze at the sight of his fear. My ears spring forward and then flop back miserably. I do not know what to do. Social interactions are not my favorite things to begin with and this stallion is completely out of my league of understanding. I did not want to cause him such fear. If anything I feel oddly protective of him. I just wanted to be noticed. I just wanted to show my frustration. Like a spoiled foal I had thrown a tantrum but his reaction is not what I expect. He crashes down sending a large splash of water at me.

I laugh.
I laugh in complete and utter shock.
I laugh playfully at the water that splashes against my chest.
At the water that has left my forelock dripping and hanging in my eyes.
I laugh at this strange stallion and I laugh at myself.
And although it seems to go on for ages in reality it is a short lived laugh that soon dissolves in the distance that exists between us.

I drop my head down to his level, and despite trying to make myself look larger than him before, I now try to shrink before him. I am not showing myself as submissive as but I am trying to make him a friend. Whenever he lifts his head I wait a few seconds and then I too raise my head. Only I do it more slowly than what he had. I lift mine as if he is a wild animal that may flee if I make any movements that are too sudden. His eyes meet mine and I feel as though they bore into me. I briefly worry that he can read further than my eye color. I have heard it said that the eyes are the window to the soul and I fret about the thought of him seeing all that lies inside of me. All of the hurt. The anger. The loneliness that I feel even as I wish to be left alone. I feel as though I am bare. Had I not been so concerned about what he saw in me I might have tried to see into him. Instead, after being trapped by his gaze for some time, I finally manage to break free and I turn my gaze to a spot of grass on the bank. The green of the grass is nowhere near as nice to look at as the sharp green of his eyes is.

I jerk in surprise whenever he speaks. My own mouth drops and my eyes raise to him once more. His voice is gruff and quiet. I want to hear more of it. Hearing him speak and still feeling uncomfortable after my laughing fit I wonder what his laugh sounds like. There is so much that Timothy leaves me to wonder about. Hope unfurls in my chest as I entertain the thought of now holding a conversation with him. "Timothy." I taste his name on my tongue. His name comes to my lips easily; as if we are old friends. The simple name mocks this terribly confusing moment. I cannot make heads nor tails out of anything that has happened since the strange pegasus crashed into my life. "I don't know what to do." It is not the first time I have told him that. I wonder if it will be the last. "What is wrong with you?" I wonder if it is the first time that he has been asked that. Now that I know he can speak I will press him for answers and conversation.

@Timothy