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Dapples in Moonlight

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

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The dappled grey gelding tore peacefully at the long, luscious grass of the field, moonlight lighting up his ghostly form as the stars twinkled above. Some called him rose grey, but, to the other horses, he was just grey. He should perhaps have wondered where his field companion was and why the field looked so strange, but none of that mattered when he had green grass to eat and room to roam.

Besides, he had a different companion there. And she didn't have a lead rope in her hand this time.

The chestnut mare trotted down to the field, tail flagged and a whinny shivering from her nostrils as she showed off her paces. As flamboyant as he, when she wanted to be, she tracked up and practically floated down the hill to his side. For once, he barely reacted to her presence bar to flick one ear in her direction, acknowledging her without lifting his head from the grass.

She couldn't be annoyed at him for ignoring her - or ignoring her, at least, as much as an equine was able to do - but she snorted all the same, giving a little half-rear to get his attention. Her front hooves briefly left the ground and she bobbed her head, grunting as she landed again, tail whipping around and around repeatedly.

Snaking her head out, she nuzzled his withers, scraping her teeth across them and down his back until he returned the favour, grooming her in return. It calmed the two of them, sharing herd behaviour, in the peace of night while the wind rustled through the long grass.

He bored soon, however, and returned to grazing with a nicker, thoughts already on his food again. But she had come for a reason and he recognised her still, even if in another skin.

"Why did you do it?" She asked out of the blue. "What made you? What did I do?"

The gelding lifted his head, ears pricked. A strand of grass clung to his grey lips.

"Do what?"

"You know..." The mare tossed her head. "You broke us. You lashed out."

"Oh, that." He paused, eyes on the ground, every muscle in his body relaxed as his tail swished. "I did it because I could."

If she'd possessed the correct facial muscles to perform the expression, she would have raised an eyebrow. As it was, the mare stomped and pawed at the grass, digging up clods of dirt. He snorted and shook his head at the waste of good grass, but the field was large enough for the two of them to have all the grass they could ever eat and more. There was no real bother with it.

The red mare contemplated his response, stepping away to think. She even took a few snatches of grass herself, chewing too quickly and gulping down the sweet sustenance much as he did while he was anxious.

"Because you could..." She mused, lips wet and green with saliva mixed with grass. "But you don't do it now? You don't take advantage of me now, do you?"

The gelding chuckled a nicker and shook his head, his thick, grey mane flopping from one side of his neck to the other. It needed pulling, if a person was into that look, but had been left long deliberately.

"If I do something you don't like now, what would you do? What would you do if I went to bite you?"

He wove his head back and forth as if threatening to do it right there and then, yet the mare didn't react. It wasn't a real threat. She didn't even have to think about her reply: the answer was already obvious.

"I'd kick you. I'd tell you it was wrong." She sighed, dropping her nose down to the grass, though she did not eat. "That's easy. Too easy."

He bobbed his muzzle several times quickly as if pleased that she had understood him so quickly. Then again, equine language wasn't a difficult one to understand between ones of the same species. It was when words and gestures tried to cross the species barrier that problems arose. Mostly on the non-equine side of the conversation too, it had to be said.

But the gelding had made himself clear to the mare and she knew it too. The "problem", as she saw it, was only one that she had made herself.

"Exactly. So, I don't bite you. I learned that consequence."

She arched her neck, ears back. Tension lined her body and he shifted away automatically, giving her the space she clearly needed.

"Then why can't you learn another?"

"You haven't taught that one yet."

And it was true. Whereas he obeyed her, without question, on the ground, everything was a different matter entirely when things changed. The dynamics changed, the rules changed. He was bigger. He was stronger. She was no longer the herd leader.

But he wasn't either.

Exhaling heavily, the mare turned her back on him, though there was no threat to kick, only silence stretching out between them. An owl hooted - more unusual than the normal fare of Barn Owls - and she flicked her ear to catch the sound, though it carried no threat. The mice scurrying through the hay barn, however, would have done well to stay hidden with that creature about. The wind licked at her coat and she turned her shoulder to it, neck bowed away to the opposite side.

Silence could be calming too. It was a shame when it was broken.

"I don't think we can fix us."

He raised his head, ears flopping out to the sides.

"What's there to fix?"

The mare snorted and hollowed her back, ears back and jaw tense.

"Do you really have to ask me that? Really?"

Chewing his mouthful of grass, the grey gelding flicked his tail, swatting off an imaginary fly in the depth of the night.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"We're fine right now," she tried to explain, twisting the terms so as to imagine he could understand. "But we can't get on when we're out of here. When we're not on the ground, it all goes wrong."

"Ah," the gelding shook his head. "But we manage now, don't we?"

"Yes... But that's not the point."

"The present is all that matters."

"But I worry!" She snapped, showing her teeth as she pinned back her ears. "What if this is it? What if this is all there is and there's no more for the two of us? I can't live like this!"

"Then change it. Make your own consequence. You'll live either way."

She threw her head up and squealed, a sound that devolved into a grunt at the end, emotions rising.

"But I can't live that way! Don't you get it? It makes no difference to you, but it affects your herd - those around you. Why can't you understand that?"

Chewing his grass thoughtfully, he carefully stepped away from her outburst, one wary eye on the mare. She sighed. It was fair. He was just wondering what she was going to do next, acting like a horse that had gone through much worse than she actually had. Yet she couldn't blame herself either. Then who was to blame? Who took responsibility for what was done and doing?

"Then change it," he said after a long pause, dark eyes shining in the light of the moon and stars. "Make it strong. Then you can protect the herd like that too."

As if proud of his solution, he moved off to a more luscious patch of grass that blossomed thickly around his hooves as he stepped into it. Grunting and groaning with pure, equine pleasure, he devoured whatever he could drag into his mouth, grass staining his muzzle.

Dropping to his knees, he sank to the ground and squealed like a yearling, rolling onto his back and waggling his legs in the air, a futile effort to heft his bulk over to the other side. She couldn't help herself. Nickering in glee at his display, she walked over and nudged his shoulders, nostrils flaring as she huffed warm breath over his thin summer coat. The gelding twisted, pressing his nose up to hers to share breath before digging the back of his neck into the grass, the real object of his roll, the itch he had to scratch, and staggering back up to his hooves.

He shook himself off and she snorted at the grass stains on his coat. Of course, he dropped back to grazing immediately, oblivious to her disgust, even if it came tinged with amusement.

"I guess I'll have to, you know, change it," she followed on from the last thing he said.

The gelding wiggled his ears and turned his head slightly away, a small calming signal. She sighed.

"Be certain."

Drawing herself up tall with a giant breath, the red mare lifted her head high, feeling every muscle in her body tense and release beautifully. There was nothing quite as powerful or majestic as the equine form and she would never stop appreciating it, not even for a moment.

"I_will_ change it," she said, with a good deal more conviction. "No questions. No doubts. It will be done."

"Good," he snorted, pushing his muzzle back into the grazing. "I really do like the grass here. I wouldn't like to leave."

Nickering, she darted her muzzle out and bit him teasingly on his rump. The gelding leapt away as if he'd been delivered a much harsher blow, squealing indignantly. Jumping after him, she trotted him off to another patch of grass, only then allowing him to rest and graze again. Puffing, the chestnut mare smiled. The grazing was better where they were.

"And me too? Us too?" She murmured, eyes soft. "You'd miss us too, wouldn't you?"

He snorted.

"Yes. You two, I'd miss. Sometimes. The treats especially."

Whinnying a laugh, she shook her head, flicking her long forelock out of her eyes.

"I'll take what I can get there. That one, I can compromise on."

And it was true. Not all had to be a battle and not everything had to be set in stone, a rule forever to be followed. There were some things, of course, where their opinions would differ and hers would ultimately have to be followed, but his cheeky nature could stay. Too many tried to change horses from what they were. She wouldn't be one to do that.

She shivered, muscle twitching beneath skin, although she wasn't cold at all. The night yawned peacefully, tucking all beneath her watchful wing as the equines grazed beneath her children, the stars twinkling oh so very high above. At the bottom of the field, the trees rustled, though neither raised their heads, content in the knowledge that they were safe with one another and one another alone.

Closing her eyes, resting a hind leg as slumber pricked at the corner of her mind. The herd was safe. The night was watchful and there was nothing more to fear. Exhaling softly, she let it go. The grey gelding snorted and wandered off to graze, moseying along with all the time in the world at his hooves. His world, at least, was simple and sane.

If only she could have said the same for hers, but he had, at least, shown her the way in that way horses have of bringing you back to the ground, often with a bump. It was only a shame - and a painful one at that - that many bumps had to involve a very physical introduction with the ground. The mare's lips twitched as she lingered on the edge of sleep, her world at rights, at least for the moment. And wasn't that what living was all about truly?

"Until we find a way, my dear."

Flicking her ears to track where he was, the mare dipped her nose softly, allowing rest to come at long, long last. Not sleep, but true, deep rest.

"Until we find a way, I'll keep trying. For you."

The moonlight glimmered on the grass.

"Always for you."