-Breathe in- one, two, three -breathe out- one, two, three, four -breathe in- one…

I’m still methodically counting my breaths when another voice breaks suddenly into our conversation. I startle again (much to my embarrassment) though, mercifully, not as obviously as I had when the stallion had approached me. Closing my eyes in a long blink and exhaling pointedly from my nostrils, I try to ease the stiffness in my sore muscles before glancing towards our new company, my amber eyes large and flat. Shallow pleasantry attempts to soften the edges of my expression, but I can feel the unease screaming from every pore, and I can only pray that they don’t notice it (very much, at least).

“Hello,” I say with obligatory politeness when the other mare greets the two of us, the lone word falling clumsily from my lips. Don’t forget to breathe, I remind myself. “Thank you,” I mimic Najya’s welcome with a rigid inclination of my own head, the natural law of my low-class heritage forcing me to dip my head well below my company’s. I force a smile, and while it feels strange and unnatural across my mouth, maybe I’m too much of a stranger for them to notice.

Much to the displeasure of my frayed nerves, Najya doesn’t waste much time before continuing. (Or is it a normally appropriate pace for conversation? I wouldn’t know). Her question is gentle and unassuming, but it still manages to echo throughout every thought until my head is ringing with wild speculations of those seemingly innocent words. (What have I given away? What did she see? Am I acting too weird? Do they think I’m a freak?) I manage to hold my smile, but it feels completely different from the second before (worse, somehow). “Yes, I’m fine,” I assure her with feigned laughter shadowing my voice, and I hope that it’s convincing enough. Act normal, I chide myself, I must seem more normal.

What is normal?

Flicking the long banner of my sweat-greased tail, I glance down briefly to my feet, observing how the snow fluffs up in between my cloven toes. “I’m…Mihtal,” I add hastily as an afterthought, looking between the mare and stallion while I blink away the hair that has fallen in front of my eyes. I wonder if they will know what it means, what I have been branded as—what I always will be.

Suddenly I feel my throat tightening again, choking me, and forcing tearless sobs to shudder through to my very core. Unexpectedly, I’m grateful for my weary muscles, and how they tremble—because then everyone won’t know how I weep inside, how I gasp and sob and scream. Like the rest of me—this tangled, writhing mess that is me—it is all conveniently hidden in a shallow, clean little package. (After all, only freaks are falling apart at every seam, right?)
I can’t let them know.

It takes me a short moment to answer the next of Najya’s questions; I almost didn’t hear what she had said. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long journey,” I shake my head, sure that mine is not a story unlike those who have already crossed into this new world. As if to emphasize my point, my knees abruptly buckle under my weight again, and I have to stumble in order to catch myself from falling completely. I feel my cheeks flush with blood. Hurriedly I carry on the conversation, wanting desperately to distract from my embarrassing behavior. “Shelter would be nice though; I’m not used to the cold,” I look between both of them, uncomfortable with just going with either of these strangers, unsure if I should really trust anyone. Then again, I don’t know anything about this place—I would undoubtedly die on my own in this kind of weather.

And I can’t help but question, would that really be so bad?


notes; Sorry to skip you, Nova! Feel free to jump back in, I just got impatient and wanted things to move along :3
“Speech.”