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Post by Blythe Adams on May 27, 2011 20:30:47 GMT -6
Blythe stared blankly at her tidy campsite. She didn't have to ask who'd done it. She was looking right at her. "Thank you." She said, the corners of her lips turning up in a small smile. "This is much appreciated." She glanced around quickly for Charlie. She spotted him over by Sasha's horse. Blythe stiffened. She wanted to call him back, but he looked like he was enjoying his time, and he needed that after only having her for company. The stallion's muscles were tense but starting to relax. He was beginning to trust the mare. She sat down, resting her back against the rough bark of the tree. She then turned her attention back to Sasha. The girl seemed to have changed her outfit and washed up, just like herself. "Do you live out here, too?" She asked softly, taking out her dagger and beginning to polish it's blade on her shirt.
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Post by Sasha Rose Sentety on May 27, 2011 20:57:31 GMT -6
Sasha smiled smiled lightly back at Blythe. One of her quirks was not being able to stand anything untidy. "No problem," she said quietly, sitting on her knees by the river and twirling a wilting yellow blade of grass between her thumb and index finger. It left a faint trace of dirt across her fingers. She smelled the grass, enjoying the smell of it, then dropped it. The blade drifted slowly to the floor and nestled into the blades surrounding it. "Yes, me too... I prefer this to, erm... other places," she said quietly, trying not to mention her parents.
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Post by Blythe Adams on May 29, 2011 18:46:01 GMT -6
Blythe nodded, she was tracing patterns in the dust beneath the tree with her index finger. "You've got a rough past, also?" She asked quietly, her small voice seemed like a huge sound in the quiet forest, with just the birds tweeting happily and the whisper of the creek as it splashed over rocks in it's way. Blythe wished she could pass by her own troubles that easily. She sighed, glancing over at Charlie once more. His black tail was swishing bugs off of his lean, muscular legs.
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Post by Sasha Rose Sentety on May 30, 2011 10:43:36 GMT -6
Sasha nodded silently, picking at another dead blade of grass. Lilly was grazing contentedly beside her again, the silky chestnut tail blowing gently in the breeze. The high, soprano tweet of the birds somewhat relaxed Sasha as she stared absently at Lilly, her mare's ink-black eyes darting up to look at her owner's pale face.
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Post by Blythe Adams on May 30, 2011 15:34:51 GMT -6
Blythe turned her attention to her horse. "Come here, Charlie." She said quietly. The bay's ears pricked forward as he heard his owner's voice, and he walked over to her, lowering his head so they were level. She leaned to her left and yanked up a small handful of the tall, wild grass that always seemed to grow there in the forest. She held out her hand and let the stallion pull it from her fingers. With her free hand stroked his arched bay neck gently. Blythe looked over at Sasha, studying her with cold, green-blue eyes.
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Post by Sasha Rose Sentety on Jun 2, 2011 14:41:42 GMT -6
Sasha sighed again, breathing in the smells of the forest again. Lilly rested her muzzle affectionately on Sasha's shoulder, closing her eyes and leaning into her. She smiled at the mare, and stroked the Arab's shiny white star absentmindedly. Sasha should feel Blythe's stare on her, but didn't move - she was quite fine under pressure. She couldn't help but marvel at Charlie's beauty. His coat was sleek and bay, a classic example of a Thoroughbred. Blythe and Charlie's bond seemed almost as close - if not as close - as Sasha's was with Lilly. The two had been partners for life, the though of separation terrified them and never crossed their mind to ever actually attempt at it, for the act would tear them apart.
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Post by Blythe Adams on Jun 2, 2011 17:54:21 GMT -6
Blythe's eyes drifted away from Sasha and onto the forest, and automatically, like an old habit, found Charlie's. She lay down on her back, her face right by Charlie's muzzle. Her shoulder's instantly relaxed, and she realized how tense she'd really been all day. She felt so safe whenever she was with Charlie. She closed her eyes, memories flooding back about the night she'd found him. She was ten years old. A thin, pale scrap of a child. Running from her house towards the fence. There was a beautiful sunset that evening, it's fiery colors streaking across the sky. She collapsed at fence's base, sobbing and clawing at the ground. She'd just gotten the news that her father had died. His boat had capsized in a storm the night before. She didn't know how long she'd lay there weeping. But she must have fallen asleep beacause it was pitch black out when she woke, and the moon was huge and round in the sky. She was numb with grief, she didn't want to go home yet. She was getting up when she saw it, a small gap under the fence. Probably dug by some animal. Definitely large enough for her to get through. She was on the other side within a few seconds, brushing off her jeans and looking around the shadowed palace that was the wood. She charged straight through the bracken, unafraid. For fear was not an option. She just wanted to get away from District Four. It wasn't very long before she came to the creek. She kneeled beside it and cupped her hands, taking long gulps of the cold water. There was a shuffle beside her, and she whirled to face the noise. A bay was standing a small ways away from her, and his appearance was appauling. His coat was so caked with dirt, dust, and mud that you could barely see what color he was. His eyes were ferocious and wild, and he was the skinniest horse Blythe had ever seen. His hip bones were clearly prominant and you could count each rib on him. His mane was matted and the parts visible on his coat were flea-bitten and mangy. Blythe loved him instantly. She named him Charlie. Her brother gave her an old brush and curry comb he'd traded with a fisherman for two days' worth of fish. It took three weeks, finally Charlie allowed her to touch him. Another week and half and he tolerated the brushes. After she'd cleaned him up, she spent time feeding him. She gathered piles of grass for him to munch and if she was lucky she'd trade fish for carrots or apples. She did this because she liked this horse, but also because it was extremely therapeutic. All the work kept her busy, kept her from thinking about her father. Charlie began to take her father's place. He was everything she wanted. Warm. Loving. And most importantly, understanding.
There was something in Blythe's hair. She opened her eyes to see Charlie smack above her, his muzzle on her head. She suddenly realized she'd been crying, the tears streaming down her face and leaving little round spots on her hoodie. She wiped them away hastily, trying to turn away. It was rather impossible with a horse in her face, and she found she hadn't even moved.
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