Just the forelock
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Short story I wrote about a character I may be putting into a new fantasy (ish) story ‘The desert mare’.
She watched. Watched its graceful movements, its fluid lines. The beauty in the curve of its neck, the clip of it’s pace. Oh, but to run with it! The feeling of the wind on you’re face, in you’re hair. The temptation was too much. Atop her steed she walked sedately down the dune. The chestnut halted it’s frolicking its ears standing erect, tail flickering nervously. The desert sand whipped around their legs as they regarded each other. Chestnut sent out a whining call to the strange newcomer, took a few steps forwards and then a few more backwards. Smiling she pressed her own steed forwards a few steps, turning to the side slightly. Chestnut shook her mane, snorting slightly, her ears going down she advanced once more scenting the air continuously watching for an ambush, but none came.
She spurred on suddenly, breaking into a run and as she did she heard the hoof beats of the lonely chestnut behind her, catching, gaining. The race was on and she laughed aloud. As they galloped side by side she raised her hands to the sky and felt the wind whipping and became lost in the freedom of the thing. They weaved their way further and further into the dunes and all time around them was lost as they three became a trinity of beings, joined in thought and heart. The land darkened around them and they slowed to a walk. She swung down from her own mare and walked slowly toward chestnut, who stood sedately, watching with thoughtful deep brown eyes. The depth of thought was unmistakable; a wondering that would never be answered.
Chestnut fell within a moment of the blow, her blood staining the dunes as it flowed from her throat. She hardly moved, barely registered even as her life drained away. Chestnuts eyes lost the lustrous depth that they had once held and simply became eyes, the eyes of a dead mare. She wiped her dagger blade on a scrap of white cloth watching as it turned a deep garnet. Then with the razor edge she cut the forelock from the mares head. Looking down almost sadly she remounted her horse and headed back to the oasis campfire.
Me!? Weird!? Never!!