oh my Dearest
they will eat you alive
they will eat you alive
“She said she didn’t want to be my friend.” The young child pouted, pushing a rock back and forth on the ground with one of her tiny cloven hooves.
“Everyone doesn’t have to be your friend, my Dearest. Sometimes quality is better than quani-”
“Why don’t they have to?!” She interrupted, looking up at her mother with shock, “I don’t understand. I asked her to play. I was being really nice.”
“Everyone doesn’t have to be your friend, my Dearest. Sometimes quality is better than quani-”
“Why don’t they have to?!” She interrupted, looking up at her mother with shock, “I don’t understand. I asked her to play. I was being really nice.”
Watching the child run away down the cobblestone street was bittersweet. A soft smile played across her lips as she let herself get lost in her thoughts of days not too long ago. They still seemed impossibly far away, these images of herself giving flowers and trinkets to the dancers, but she still could feel how much giving that gift meant to a child. This had been all she wanted when her legs were too long and gangly, her voice still holding the squeak of youth. To earn the praise and admiration and perhaps bring a bit of happiness to a world much crueler than the one she grew up knowing in the process. But this didn’t stop her from missing home and all its familiar offerings.
She was pulled from her nostalgia by the clearing of a throat, and she was thankful to the stranger before she even laid eyes on her. After all, there was no use falling into the past as the present passes you by. Her savior was well-built, her skin broke apart by splashes of contrasting color. She hadn’t noticed the woman staring, preoccupied with thinking about white flowers and the kids who consider them precious, but it wouldn’t have bothered her if she had. Dearest was the one staring now, noting the sculpture of the feathers and the single, spindly horn and finally ending at a set of blue eyes. They were as bright as the cloudless desert sky above them, and though this other mare may seem awkward in her words, the eyes made her comfortable and it was a feeling not to be questioned. Something about beauty always put her at ease.
The praise made her blush. Red cheeks managed to deepen in color but it was not out of embarrassment that this happened, though it could seem that way on the surface. She was simply that pleased, and it lifted her voice in cadence. “Thank you. Sincerely.”
Her grin deepened as she considered the question. The girl looked left and right before she took a step closer, leaning in as if whispering a secret, “My mother taught me the song. Beautiful voice. Angelic. But you ask her to hold a rhythm and you mighta just as well have given a badger a stick.”
She laughed at her own joke, heartily and without shame, the bells in her hair twinkling along. She hadn't realized how much she missed having someone to talk to. Being an impulsive creature, and once her throaty chuckling settled down, she considered the mare before her. She was hot. Literally. The heat was affecting them both. “I’m Dearest, by the way. Was going to head off and get a drink, cool down a bit, maybe sing for a few folks the other side of sober. They seem to appreciate it more than most. Would you wanna come?”
