Promises Up in Smoke

Bellisma

The small, copper-colored mare stood with her hooves nestled deep in colorful sea glass. She wasn’t sure why, but this place felt so much safer than the shadowed wilds of that dark, deep forest she had sprinted through. Perhaps it was a sense of false security (for who knew what lurked in the depths that churned against this vivid beach).

But, for a rare moment, the tiny woman did not pay attention to all the potential dangers surrounding her.

For one single, precious moment, the small and tattered mare was hoping.

She had felt her sides swelling since that day of tryst with her shadowed prince. It had been wrong in so many ways. He was just a colt; she had stolen him from his family.

But it also had been right. It had been gentle, soft; it had been of her choosing. It had been filled with quiet murmurs of encouragement and of tender satiation. And, as if testament to how right it had been, Bellisma thought a life had taken root in her traumatically forced-barren belly.

So her copper tail brushed softly against her hocks as all the fearful lines faded from her beautifully sculpted face. Green eyes glowed slightly, reflecting the ominous light that bounced from rain-heavy clouds.


Perhaps, in all this death and shadows, there were a few candles lit in hope.

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@Kiada