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Her horns still pointed at his flank, he turned his head to her. She remembered him faintly. Though the memory had marginally faded, there was still him in the back of her mind. Silence took over them. Quiet and quieter stared at each other for what seemed to be a long time. Slowly, Demetrie reached her soft muzzle towards the point where his horn went into his check. She got close, very closer. Her whiskers tingling as they touched around his wound. Retreating her muzzle she let her upper lip curl upward as she stored his smell in her mind.
Removing her horns from near his flank, she looked at him. She recalled everything in a moment. The drawing he drew, the way he had taken her in, and his fatherly-like nature. Though Demetrie needed no fatherly figure, she enjoyed Lynx. The vixen wasn't to easily swayed though. "Alone." Her voice a ragged crackling tone, and it meant a much deeper meaning. She'd been alone, defending herself, for quite a while. Standing back, with her horns tall and proud, she cocked an eyebrow. She'd even learn how to fight by herself. What a great father!
Her ivory pelt was pure, yet it was a wrong signal. One whom knew nothing of Demetrie, might've waltzed up expecting something friendly, though they'd get her. Demetrie was a very crafty creauture, but not just that, she could change her facade and become the sweetest mare or even a wallflower. She's found a deep want for power, though truly, she was afraid of challenging the tops horses. She'd be eternally shamed if she lost.
Wining would be a must.
"blah blah blah."
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