Post by » roach. on Mar 13, 2008 21:15:37 GMT -5
_________Sublime, Maneater, & Brooklin_________
Brooklin’s long slender legs wrapped around her paint stallion’s ribs, his chubby sweet-feed belly hung below him as he lazily walked with Bee saddle-less on his back. A rope bridle strapped his forelock draped face, his amber eyes looking ahead as he set sight on a couple feral horses, and naturally my painted boy began to let his heart flutter and his muscles twitch with uneasiness. Sublime rarely trusted other horse’s around Manny (maneater) and Brooklin. Manny being much like his bratty little sister, and Brooklin, well…she was just Bee. A young mare followed, no lead rope, just a bunch of camping supplies strapped to her back, surprisingly Manny did not mind being the pack-pony. She was the show horse, and she worked harder than her lazy bum of a ‘brother’, or so she figured.
Brooklin, Manny, and Lime had wandered far and near, she rode them across states, even countries before. I guess you could say she was homeless, but my rebellious angel-child likes to call herself a drifter with her herd in toe. She spent her entire life around horse’s, mostly being raised by them, friends with them — as odd as it sounds she felt more like a horse than she ever did a human. She earned her money by showing the champion brat-face back there, her pure Andalusia blood and thorough training (before she came to Bee) makes her a champion. And by the grace of god, some lady dumped her because of a temporary leg injury that healed within the year. Bee was pretty sure Manny didn’t really like that lady anyhow.
Brooklin felt Lime’s pace slow beneath her, and finally the chubby stallion stopped, looking back at the pale mare in toe — he snorted to her, calling her closer, him being the dominant one…she came. “I take it this is were we stay?” The paint stallion had been around humans since birth (pretty much) and so their language was not foreign, although their speech was jarbled. Manny & Lime had learned to listen to the tone of her voice, the pitches, the expression on her face, her body language and her vibes. That’s how they understood her so fluently. With a snort Lime threw his head upward, which politely mean “off”. And so, as a fellow herd member, Bee obeyed, slipping off him with ease, followed by sliding his rope-bridle off his graying face. Lime touched his nose to her cheek, huffing warm breath onto her soft human-skin, and then slinking away to roll and graze. Manny on the other hand, stood feet away, a dull and very unimpressed, burning holes in Bee’s head as she awaited to be ‘unloaded’. Bee chuckled to herself and strode over to take the bags, pots, gun, and tent off the mares back.
Soon after the supplies was unloaded, Manny strayed only a few feet from were Brooklin sat (setting up everything). Despite the cold, Bee knew how to live off the wilderness and survive without civilization. As Bee set everything up, Maneater moved closer to Lime who snorted, groaned and rolled among the thin layer of snow — Manny on the other hand, was way more intrigued with the wild horses. She had always been too aggressive and shy to interact with them, despite watching Lime go and mingle many times, she always stayed near Bee, even with Bee’s encourage meant she stayed close to the tent. Even when Bee approached the herds, Manny got closer, but never let the others come near her. Today though, Brooklin was hopeful Lime and her could get to know the feral herds in their area…they would be here for a very long time…
