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04-08-2016, 03:27 PM
He’s nosing his flank, gently checking the newly formed circle of singed hair and chapped skin while the painted mare approaches. He recognizes her warm, cinnamon scent even before she speaks, but he doesn’t look up at the sound of her dancing steps. He doesn’t acknowledge her at all until he’s satisfied that the embers damage is only surface deep and even then he makes no move to stand, but simply lounges onto his side with half lidded eyes. “I’m afraid it’s terminal.” He reports, his voice rough and tired. “I may have only hours left…” One green eye cuts slyly toward the mare’s jovial face, laughter dancing in its sharpened focus. “I don’t suppose you’re here to show a dying man one last good time before he meets his tragic end?”
With that the stallion’s mane-less head and neck finally rise, ears trained affably forward. He rolls onto his sternum, front legs tucked neatly beneath his forequarters, and shakes away a sprinkling of dirt and broken pine needles from his (barely) winter-thickened coat. His ribs and spine don’t seem so prominent from this perspective, with the bulk of his body curled together and propped up from below. All his angular corners and knobby connections seem to soften and blur together in the warm glow of the fire, his salt and pepper greys bronzed by its orange light. It’s a faint glimpse into the past, a hint of what he might have been all those years ago, but it is just a glimpse and as he drags himself to his feet it drains away like water over stone, leaving behind a bare truth made all the more jarring by the sudden and unexpected contrast.
Unaware, the stallion watches his company, a small grin steeped in his own expectations of the mares response already forming in the corners of his mouth.
With that the stallion’s mane-less head and neck finally rise, ears trained affably forward. He rolls onto his sternum, front legs tucked neatly beneath his forequarters, and shakes away a sprinkling of dirt and broken pine needles from his (barely) winter-thickened coat. His ribs and spine don’t seem so prominent from this perspective, with the bulk of his body curled together and propped up from below. All his angular corners and knobby connections seem to soften and blur together in the warm glow of the fire, his salt and pepper greys bronzed by its orange light. It’s a faint glimpse into the past, a hint of what he might have been all those years ago, but it is just a glimpse and as he drags himself to his feet it drains away like water over stone, leaving behind a bare truth made all the more jarring by the sudden and unexpected contrast.
Unaware, the stallion watches his company, a small grin steeped in his own expectations of the mares response already forming in the corners of his mouth.
@Tangere
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