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11-18-2012, 04:45 PM
Korra thrilling to think, poor child of sin - it was the dead who groaned within
The barbarian slowly stepped across the Steppe, brown gaze fixed on the young mare that she was snaking in front of her. Small lobes flattened down her neck, yellow fangs bared at every notion the other should have to flee. Successfully, Korra had stolen the young appaloosa from her home, and though she did not show it on the outside, she was enjoying herself quite a bit. It had been easy, much easier than she had anticipated; she suspected the young one remembered the taste of her sharp antlers, as the savage had dealt her a few blows when their ways had crossed on the battlefield.
The thick snow gave the surefooted wildling an advantage, making it easier to keep the mare in check as they moved forward. Korra was not quite sure what her next move would be, for she did not care to reveal the existence of the Plague for this mare. She was certain that the wench would run her mouth at the first chance she got, and they couldn’t afford that in their current, vulnerable state. As they had wandered far into the middle of the Steppe, Korra halted and barked a command at her captive. “Enough.” The russet warrior did not care to holler for the herd; she knew their arrival had already been discovered and it would only be a matter of minutes before they would have company. She did not care for this hornless, did not know her or want to have anything to do with her. Korra simply brought her here because she was an easy target; she had no personal desire to waste her time on the impure. But she spoke none of those thoughts, she never had exposed her racism in the presence of those it was directed against, and so this was just a stealth like any other. Her globes were cold as they regarded the appaloosa, speaking nothing further and caring not for whatever scolding the other might let out. It never touched her. |
