Slowly she stepped forward, her feet finding purchase along the smooth sediment teeming with death and life. She was drawn to him and his promises of something new; a bone to toss to the baying dogs of her curiosity. Her upbringing did not involve war-torn chaos, nor were her parents well versed in healing, thus leaving an expansive gap in her knowledge base.
She stopped in the shallows, water sluggishly retreating from her body and rolling off of her broad back. The blood streaked down her haunches in a rosy watercolor, lazily tracing the burned serpent mark coiled brashly on her left gaskin before mingling with the cool water. “I’m assuming you’ve inflicted your fair share,” she tipped her muzzle towards the weapon on his tail, argent as it caught the soft morning light.
She blinked from beneath a long tangle of forelock, taking a moment to assess the red stranger. He seemed competent and capable, not to mention potentially dangerous. Her youthful eyes were torn between her desperate want to be trusting, though her innate stubbornness lurked ubiquitously beneath their glimmering surface. Hydra was not adept at deceit, and though she could wield many faces, they were candid and as well-concealed as a pimple in a prom picture. She had no room for veiled intent in her repertoire, though she would come to find tucking her emotions into her proverbial pocket rather than wearing them on her sleeve an invaluable tool in time. Some things do just come with age, and for the dusky golden filly, this was one of them. With a sniff, Hydra made up her mind.
“Someone who carries a blade with them is probably well versed in treating wounds, eh?” she offered drily as she cast a sidelong look at Raymond, chin raised. “Show me what you’ve got,” she said with a twitch of her nose, taking to the bank of the lake.
H Y D R A
How the heavens they opened up
Like arms of dazzling gold
With our rain-washed histories well, we do not need to be told
Like arms of dazzling gold
With our rain-washed histories well, we do not need to be told
