Chico was mad at me and it was over something stupid so I wasn’t even worried about it. He had beef cuz with the springtime came the shedding, and now he couldn’t touch me without becoming a ball of my own shedded hair. And he was mad like I could do something to fix it.

Oh shut up, I growled, cuz he was throwing a petty fit, rolling on the ground (covered in my hair) and itching and blaming me for it, I ain’t like I chose to do this shit, if I were my call I’d be born butt-ass naked, fuck with me.

And it was true that I was going through my own brand of personal hell, because, once again, I was shedding, and it was turning out itchier and nastier than usual. I mean, it was itchy and nasty all the time anyway but somehow I was shedding even more shit than I usually did. It was pretty bad, too; you could see a trail where I walked, see clearly-marked landmarks where I’d rubbed raw my chest, my ass, the parts of my back and withers I could reach with a tree trunk--everything, everything and anything at all that was itching up a devilish storm.

It was only gonna last a few days, thank gods, and honestly I was getting pretty close to being all buffed out and square. There were still awkward tufts here and there all over my body that stuck out, but those would rub away easily, probably in my sleep or whatever. No, the last problem area was also the most annoying and the most difficult to reach.

So like...you’d think having a horn would be super badass right? Maybe you’d be stupid and get it stuck in a tree (shut up) but on the whole it was mostly just a bunch of pros, right? Except what no one tells you is that you have hair on your face and around your horn and on the base of your horn and even though it’s thin, it still gotta shed too, just like everything else. And no one really talks about how utter bullshit it is to find a tree or a branch that sticks out just right, at just the right angle to catch that 90-degree corner on your forehead.

That’s what I was doing now, and I didn’t know the Edge's trees that well, so it was being a really shitty time. I wonder what I looked like to other horses; just watching me stick my face in a tree’s butt for a second, rubbing on it, getting pissed and wandering over to the next one. Chico probably would’ve laughed at it but right now he was pissed and I was pissed and we were both itchy and all in all it was a shitty afternoon.

 "talk"

yael

Winter may have been the ninth circle of hell for the thin-coated Desert-born lady, but at least she didn’t shed to the extent that some of her draftier, hardier herd mates did. Don’t get me wrong, Yael does shed, but it’s all shiny and fine and comes off pretty easily. The Edge, however, is awash in flying fur, the wind amongst the bluffs and in between the trees swirl it all about - constantly. From a distance it might be considered early pollen, but when that shit gets in your mouth and nose and eyes? It’s an entirely different story, and Yael isn’t sure what’s worse - sand or shedding fur.

The little golden pegasus has been around long enough to learn the names of the important ones in the herd, even if she’s never met them. What she doesn’t understand are the nicknames (yes, she thinks of them as nicknames, don’t get your panties in a twist about that part, she’s still learning), and why they have them, and what they all mean.

But nevermind the peculiarities she’s observing, it is finally starting to feel truly warm, and after living in a desert for almost 40 years, Yael is thoroughly enjoying a wooded environment, particularly the way the sun trickles down in between the branches. It’s quiet, for the most part. Peaceful. Until a white clump of fur hits her in the face and leaves her shaking her head, trying to get the itty bitty hairs out of her mouth. She shakes her head this way and that, moving her tongue all around her teeth and spitting whatever she can to the ground. It must be rather comical to see, but when the foreigner looks up, she sees someone… poking their head into a cluster of branches? Her head tilts quizzically to one side, and stays the silent observer until the stranger does it again. How... odd.

Odd enough for Yael to call out to them. “Ahhhh… ekscuse me! Are you alright?” She takes a few energetic steps towards the horned mare, and then asks another question. “Do you need xelp?” She tries to think of what the end goal might be - finding something? Smelling nice? Poking an eye out?  

trust your heart if the seas catch fire

live by love, though the stars walk backwards

Image © littlewillow-art

Aw great, now I had a witness.

Chico could benefit from this and he knew it; so being the mutinous ass that he was, he promptly left me to my own devices, zpsnk!ing onto a smaller, fluffier, cuddlier body that was still covered in too much loose hair to be comfortable. That was okay though; he waddled his way to the golden mare with an accent laced with a lougie, making to sidle up to her shins for cuddles and maybe a rub to get the hair off. Cuz, y’know, he’s schemey bastard.

I was stuck by myself, to deal with this super awful horrible incessant itch. There was a branch that kind of scratched one side of the base of my horn, which was awful anyway, because it wasn’t hard or firm enough to actually relieve it; all it was doing was making it worse, tickling it in an enraging way, all the while the center hole of my horn was totally untouched, totally unrelieved.

She was asking if I needed hgckhelp (sorry) and I know she was trying to be nice but this was not the time for it; I didn’t have a polite tongue anyway and I was in the throes of annoyance, and I was doing my best to reel in my temper as close as I could keep it, which is not very.  “N-no,” I said, still poking my head here and there, dashing from one tree to the next branch, trying and failing to find relief to this immediate fucking dilemme.  “Don’t worry ‘bout me, it’s fine, I got it covered, I got--”

Having some trouble there?

And now it was officially a crowd--but it was the tone that the new mare used that made me fly off the handle just a bit.  “Keep fuckin’ with me and we both might have some trouble, bet,” I couldn’t keep the retort from flying from my mouth, which sucked, because I recognized her as a new recruit and it was shitty how I was treating her. Jeez. If she’d just leave... ”Just--as you were, soldier,” I tried for a tone of professionalism, which I missed completely, as my head was currently upside-down against a trunk and I was lookin’ up at her cross-eyed,  “Gotta--keep those borders patrolled. I’ll return to my own post in a--in a sec...”

 "talk"

yael

Purely out of habit, and because it’s been an awfully long time since something fluffy and and cuddly asked to be petted, Yael obliges, lightly stroking the companion with her nose. Even if he is a schemey bastard, he’s a damn cute one.

Even as the Sparklight protests (going so far as to send her soldier away - how silly!), Yael watches her with a rather mixed expression on her face. Personally, the once-Queen is all for self-sufficiency, but there are times when it’s ok to ask for help. Especially when it turns one rather… upside down, shall we say? The golden mare chuckles to herself. It seems that all the branches she is trying are too bendy - she needs a slightly forked stick, preferably dead. While still absently stroking the companion, Yael whispers to it, slightly unsure as to whether or not it would understand (or even if she’s breaking some sort of deep seated protocol) “I t’ink a forked, dead steeck vould xelp xer, yes? I vill go look. Can you, too?”

Bemused, light-hearted hooves carry her a ways away before she finds a stick that miiiiiight be the right size and shape to hit both sides of the Sparklight’s horn. Picking it up between her teeth, she returns and holds it out, perpendicular to her face. Grasped tightly in mouth, Yael calls out with even more of a garbled tongue, “Xere! Try eet now.” I mean… Roskuld couldn’t look any more ridiculous than she did before. What did the General have to lose?

trust your heart if the seas catch fire

live by love, though the stars walk backwards

Image © littlewillow-art