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The blood doesn’t surprise her. The small, thoughtless insertions that include the crack of tiny bones, and the small ear that pokes out from the ground, are what echoes out within her. What was moving is now stiff, silent, what was breathing and feeding, disappeared with the crunching of bone – a sudden, unexpected removal of existence.
It’s hard to say what she feels, or if it should even matter. She recognizes the blood, and its stark contrast isn’t what frightens her. Ru’s seen it before, smelt it from her own body throughout a fight. She wonders about the body, and then she goes so far as to think, what did mother’s body look like when she passed?
Perhaps it was a good thing to never truly know. As she stood there, she could see pieces of mangled fur, crushed flesh without distinguishable origin, steaming in the cool air. She doesn’t even realize that the dark colt has joined her, the one with bright golden eyes, dabbed with markings that barely make themselves out in the bright winter landscape.
When he speaks, she is suddenly aware of his appearance. She is awarded a short time to gather herself at that point, when the boy states the obvious. Yes…, she thinks plainly, of course it’s dead. But the little one runs his mouth, provoking the young mare to raise her head defensively in response. Eyes blinking, amazed by his accusations, perhaps stunned? It bristles the feathers lined against her neck, they flare and expand as if to make her bigger than she seems.
There’s something hollow in what he says. And she knows herself well enough to not take what he says personally. Heartless, cold… low self-esteem? She frowns, raising a brow and undecided as to whether or not she should be mad or confused by these wildly crafted, imaginative spit balls.
It’s the smile that sends her in the opposite direction of anger. That pulses her voice to giggle just as he starts to introduce himself, began cackling as his name finally met the air. Loud jests that hit the air with different depths and ferocity.
Who does this kid think he is?!
The young mare shuts her eyes briefly to squish out the tears that have collected. Takes in deep breathes.
Zubari, huh. What an odd name.
With a calloused snort, she gives the young one a suspicious look. And makes her way closer to the mangled corpse, pausing as she picked up her right fore leg and prodded the snow for its pieces. Ah-, she’d found it. Carefully, the buckskin mare uncovered the snow. A small, low coo exited her mouth as if concerned, as if lamenting over it.
And perhaps she was a little sad. Responsible? Maybe, it was hard to say. But it wouldn’t do, having the body ripped open like it was now for someone else to stumble on.
Mother’s body was probably long gone, to the worms and slugs, the bottom feeders. She was ashes, fertilizer for the earth – unspoken and unsung.
Deciding that she’d spent too much time staring at the mess, she glanced back at Zubari. Tilting her head, and making an inquisitive trill towards the young one. She gestured with a wing to look with her.
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