I don't play by the rules

GWYN uh-oh, running out of breath, but I oh, I, I got stamina A loud nicker from nearby draws the girl’s eyes from their searching of the jungle. Turning her head with wariness writ on every inch of her expression, her ears are back-turned; not aggressive, aware that she is too small to pose a threat to the larger, faster, stronger mare, but instead the sort of stance that suggests she can and will run, if she feels its necessary. That she would rather not have to, at all. Something about the way the woman is looking at her suggests there is a familiarity between the two of them; one that does not register with Gwyn, who knows she does not know this woman. Though the stranger is pretty, the filly lets this peculiarity hold her gaze rigidly on the approach of the blue and starry woman, her nostrils quivering as she breathes in her smell, a single ear lifting to catch her somewhat shouted words. I’m little, not deaf… she thinks to herself, a frown fleetingly crossing her mouth at the thought, that lingers, when the woman suggests she return to her parents. It softens only slightly when the girl is told that the as-yet nameless stranger is deaf, explaining, at least, why she was pretty much yelling, though it didn’t excuse her telling Gwyn to do things she was trying and incapable of doing. “I can’t remember how to go back,” states the snow and gold rumped maiden, making sure her face is angled towards the deaf woman so she can at least see her lips, even if she can’t hear anything. Wondering how communication is going to work if she can’t be heard, Gwyn tries a secondary approach. Miming out her words, next, she points at the forest with her horn, then sweeps across where it meets with the beach; looking back at the stranger and dramatically shrugging her shoulders, she bitterly adds one word: “Lost.”

Image by Jody Roberts@Flickr