[[ Woo, a story! Had this one in my head for a while, it’s about my old mustang character, Tempest. Hopefully I can get back into more writing again! ]]
The last cold rains of winter clung to the herd’s shaggy coats, and Tempest shivered, thinking that she might never be warm again. But beneath their hooves, tender green grass sprouted, and soon enough, the days would be dry and warm. They’d roll in the soft grass and nibble the sweet clover blossoms. She sighed, shook herself again, and surveyed the valley below. Beside her, Ironhooves did the same, her lean frame tense as she checked the air.
“I think someone–” she paused, hesitating. “I’ll keep watch,” she declared, glancing back over the rest of the herd — only two at present, but Ironhooves was diligent about their safety, just as she was Tempest’s. In many ways, the lean fleabitten mare acted as the stallion of their little band. She was the first to attack any threat, no matter the danger to herself. She stood watch and chased off any stallions that came too close — thankfully that had only happened a few times along their journey.
Back in the big valley, they had got along very well without a stallion at all. Tempest, alone herself, had met the spirited Ironhooves and their friendship was nearly immediate. They spent many nights talking together beneath the stars, Ironhooves her devoted guardian. But more than that, Ironhooves had always been there for her when no one else had, even during the most difficult times. The memory of Heart-Seer and their colt sent another pain through Tempest, one more piercing than the frigid rain. It seemed a little less though, and Tempest wondered if one day it might fade to nothing more than a dull ache, just the way the winter faded away to spring.
Tempest and the other mares paused to graze while Ironhooves stood guard. She knew that Ironhooves would eat quickly when the chance presented herself, or while they moved. That was probably part of why she was so lean. Near Tempest’s side was Daisy, with her wild white and brown patches, originally from the valley with them. Not far behind them, Brook nipped eagerly at the fresh grass, an older mare they had come across on their journey. She had an injury from her previous herd’s stallion, and Ironhooves took it upon herself to ensure that Brook healed, now only a scar on her hide betrayed her unhappy past.
They had not seen another herd in some time, which seemed strange to Tempest given the place they were in. Plenty of grass grew on the open plain, and there were hills to provide lookout for danger. There had to be some other danger, but it could wait until her stomach was full. But as if she had heard Tempest’s thoughts, Ironhooves gave a little snort of alarm.
“Someone here,” she said, her nostrils wide as she scented the wind. “Stallion.”
Tempest frowned, raising her own head, and Ironhooves was not mistaken. Beyond one of the hills, she saw him, scenting the air as well. Surely he was aware of them, and Tempest tensed as he began to approach. She did not smell any others, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t nearby. As he grew closer, Tempest saw just how big he was — bigger even than Heart-Seer — and he wore a tattered thing about his head. From meeting others in the valley, Tempest knew that this was a thing that humans put on you, which meant this stallion was human-raised. Ironhooves noticed it too, and her ears pinned further, showing her teeth to the threat.
Tempest did not threaten the stranger, but she did tense, ready to fight if needed. Or they could run, but if his herd was hidden nearby, that might not go very well for them. The stranger, black from nose to tail, slowed in his approach and turned to face them sidelong. It was a gesture of peace, which caused Tempest to exhale a breath of relief, but Ironhooves did not appear convinced.
“Hello. Who are you?”
Though his voice rumbled like distant thunder, there was no threat in it. Ironhooves remained suspicious, her ears pinned flat, but Tempest stepped forward with confidence. Their noses touched; he did not smell unusual aside from the lingering smell of humans. He was polite and did not snap or strike.
“I am Tempest, and this is my herd,” she answered finally. “Ironhooves, Daisy, and Brook.”
The stallion gave a little shake of his mane, amused. “Your herd? You are alone?”
Tempest knew the intention of his words, and from her glare, so did Ironhooves. “We are not alone,” Tempest explained. “We have each other.”
“Hm,” said the stallion, leaning back on a hind leg. “I am Titan.”
“Titan? What kind of name is that?” Tempest heard Ironhooves give a little snort of laughter.
“It’s — well, that’s just what they called me. I’ve always had that name.” He paused, studying Tempest carefully. “Will you stay here?”
Again, the implication hung heavy in the air between them. It seemed a suitable place to stay, with plenty of grass and open spaces. And Tempest was so very tired. She did want to stop moving, to settle someplace safe, though she wasn’t certain the rest of the herd would agree.
“We will discuss it,” she said, and turned to the other mares. They gathered with heads close so Titan couldn’t overhear, though he probably could. He reached down to nibble at the grass, ears turned toward them.
She looked first to Ironhooves, who she knew would be against it. She had always said they could do just as well on their own, and she had been right. But she didn’t understand how Tempest yearned for her own foal, especially now. They had discussed it in those firefly-lit nights in the glade, and she had agreed — reluctantly — that having a daughter wouldn’t be so bad. Tempest had hoped she might sway on this, but it hadn’t happened yet. And if Ironhooves refused, she couldn’t very well leave her. She was her best friend, and Tempest couldn’t abandon her like that.
Daisy spoke first. “I think it’s a good place,” she said. “It looks nice.”
“He doesn’t seem bad,” said Brook, looking over toward Titan.
Tempest looked to Ironhooves. “Hmph,” she said. “I don’t see why we need him at all.”
“Let’s stay for a while,” Tempest said gently. “If we don’t like it here, we can leave.”
Ironhooves grumbled, but seemed to accept this. Even she knew that staying in one place would be a welcome change after traveling so far.
Titan lifted his head as Tempest approached, ears forward.
“I have questions,” she said.
They walked down to a stream, bubbling over with fresh, clear water. Tempest took a drink, and it was very good water. “Why don’t you have a herd?” she asked Titan.
“Well, I — I hadn’t found anyone yet.” He scuffed at the bank, perhaps a little shaken by her question. “But now I’ve found all of you,” he said brightly. “I feel lucky indeed.”
Tempest ignored this attempt at flattery. “And you came from humans?” The thing about his head was worn, and would probably fall off soon, but it was still there, plain proof of Titan’s history.
“I did. They were kind, but I wanted…” he trailed off, looking to Tempest. “I wanted to be with others, do what I wish. You understand that, right?”
For her and the others, there had never been any other way. But, she could only imagine what it was like living with humans. Tempest had heard many stories, though she didn’t believe half of them.
“We have agreed to stay for a time. Ironhooves is… unusual. But she is my best friend. You must treat her kindly, even when she doesn’t deserve it.”
Titan’s ears perked brightly. “Oh, you have? That’s wonderful. I’m so pleased.” He reached to touch her nose again, gently. “I hoped that you would stay.”
Did he mean all of them, or her in particular? Tempest took an unsure step away. It would take time to trust this stranger, but that, they had.
“Come,” Tempest said. “You should meet everyone.”
The Dancing Hare 