Her ankles hurt. This wasn't something Breathless had foreseen from a simple fling, a tease-and-dash in the heart of the swamp, and the weight of her stomach left her tired and heavy and grumpy and sore and, with every step, cursing Would I Could to a slow death. Something that would leave him sightless, senseless, kept away from his art or even her own preference of wrestling in the swamp.She didn't realize how much like her mother she was, clomping up to a the den of one of a wise [or less-than] legendary to make sure that the clutch she didn't even want that twisted and shifted in the pit of her stomach came out safe.
Nettles. There were Nettles everywhere; burs that she had to step around carefully, approaching slowly to avoid their clinging to her fur, to her feet, to her stomach when they reached high enough. It seemed, to her, that this particular part of the swamp was even more poorly kept than the wild parts where young fillies and colts rumbled away from the watchful eyes of their elders. It had a nasty look to it that seemed...cultivated, as opposed to random or forgotten. Perhaps, she thought, as she approached, the stag who occupied these swamps didn't want to be disturbed...
And she was right. Nettle had a contrary nature that suited his name, that fit his home: he was happy when he was unhappy, and happiest when the people around him were miserable as well. His seclusion, his brambles, the mudpool that sucked at her hooves as she worked past them, the forbidding cave beyond, were all designed to drive off nattering children as well as needy adults, come pleading for his help, or his wisdom or whatever other damn fool thing they wanted.Breathless was stubborn, though. Her contrariness was perhaps enough to match his, refusing to buckle or bend or be driven off. She was careful, yes, she weave through the mess and stepped lightly through the mud, but she found herself at his cave and raised her head carefully.
"Old one?" There was a waver in her voice that made her wince and made her jaw set, mentally steeling herself and setting her shoulders to project confidence, a stance she'd worked on to make herself seen among the bucks.
"Old one!" This one, louder, brought the beast from his cave: glowing golden eyes in the dark were meant to be dramatic, likely, and frightening, and for just a moment they made her drop her head and shrink back a step. But the face that followed them was so grumpy, the mouth so turned-down at the corners, that it lightened her up again.
"What do you want, child?" And oh, his attitude was so pointed, so deliberate, the narrowing of his eyes childish enough that she had to fight against a bubbling of laughter. Couldn't keep it out of her eyes, no, but...
She shifted just a little, hesitating and then taking a step forward. And another. And another, until she was just outside his cave. A touch lower, she had to raise her head back up so that she could meet his eyes. "I was hoping you'd...I mean, I want to make sure that everything is going alright with...with the babies."
This scared her far more than his posturing and posing, the idea of life inside of her, squirming, the horrifying idea that they would come out, small living things. Nettle watched her silently as she shuddered, shifting where she stood, and his reply was a grunt. Not an understanding grunt but an annoyed one, as if she was some petty confusion in an otherwise-important day.
"Well, let's look at you, then." But, at least he didn't drive her away. His tail thrashed, idly, and his head weaved back and forth like that of a snake as she hesitantly worked her way in even closer and he inspected her with those same golden eyes, lit with a glow. His movements were slow and sinuous, not all of him quite seeming to move at once: not graceful but interesting. Nettle circled her, his tail thrashing idly against her flank as she passed, leaving her shifting nervously in place again. Damnit.
Eventually he came back to the front and Breathless met his eyes as defiantly as she could manage, chin coming up high enough that she had to look down her nose at him, waiting for some wisdom, some great insight or promise...
He was dismissive, instead, disappearing back into his cave with another thrash of his tail, "May they have more common sense than you."
And she was left wondering what kind of blessing that was.
