Flick.
Flick.
Flick.
Each time a blade of grass swayed in the breeze or by movement of insect or animal, the mare flicked her long feline-esque tail. She could not help the movement. Her eyes stalked the movements, though she herself remained motionless as she lay in the sea of green. Her tail was the only movement that tensed the sharp muscles in her body, the rest of her relaxed; even her wings lay splayed outward to soak up the warm sunny rays that doused the ground in heat. It was lovely, and calming. Too much lately caused her hideous stress, completely unenjoyable. Losing her family, her friends, even losing her sister in these strange lands, she felt almost afraid.
Almost.
The mare allowed her her tail to continue to sway, her ears sharply aware of small noises somewhere nearby. Or was that her imagination? The damned loud cicadas threw off much of her hearing. But there was something, she knew it. She could feel something, another presence, just beyond her line of sight.
Yawning, she lazed - her muscles lax. Whoever or whatever it was was not much of a threat.