Post by Oxyrrhodine on Jun 4, 2017 15:42:28 GMT -7
The clearing was still, held in the sudden silence after a battle as a lone figure stood tall above the corpses of five stallions, triumph in her eyes and blood- nearly all not her own- staining her black and white coat. It was another success, another triumph, finally a somewhat interesting mission after far too much of the same old easy thing. Granted, the stallions had only been a challenge due to their numbers. Otherwise, they had been inexperienced, overconfident, and stupid. But oh, the looks on the rest of their faces when the lone mare they thought was going to be their next victim had killed the first of them, breaking his neck with one swift strike. Mystic Shadows allowed herself a laugh at the memory, turning to quickly finish snacking on the patch of one of her favorite edible plants that she’d noticed before the fight had begun and had carefully kept free of blood splatter. A wound on her shoulder bled sluggishly, but it was shallow and would heal quickly, nothing to concern herself with.
After taking another moment to admire her handiwork, relishing the familiar pride of a job well done, Mystic turned to head out of the forest and locate the rendezvous point where she would receive her next mission. The trees passed by quickly, the local fauna practically undisturbed by the mare’s efficient, near-silent strides. Although she remained instinctively alert, scanning the trees around her with bicolored eyes as her flicking ears and flaring nostrils took in the sounds and smells of the forest, her mind was already wandering ahead, wondering what her next mission would be. Probably something boring, she thought with distaste, a herd of mares and foals that couldn’t even put up a fight or some single, overconfident idiot of a stud. But maybe she’d be lucky. Maybe she’d get to revel in the looks on the surrounding equines’ faces as she killed a feared warlord or something exciting like that. Oh, the fight would probably be slightly harder than usual, too (but still too easy), but the reactions from the followers that thought their leader was invincible would really be the most entertaining part. Lost in thought as she was, the edge of the trees came up quickly on Mystic, and from there the nearby peak where she was to receive her next job was easy to spot.
Fit and nimble as she was, the overo mare had barely broken a sweat when she reached the rocky peak, eyes falling on a buckskin figure, also battle-scarred and powerfully muscled, though slightly taller and bulkier. “Hey Sterling,” she said casually; the stallion was a year older than her, and had an odd predilection for seeking her out during the rare times when they weren’t busy with missions, so she knew him better than she knew some members of their mercenary band. “Playing the messenger today, huh? Please tell me you’ve got something interesting for me this time.”
Sterling shifted slightly, Mystic couldn’t quite tell if it was from anxiety or anticipation. Either way, her interest was caught, eyes brightening as she eagerly wondered what could be causing this reaction from her acquaintance. Something big, she hoped. Maybe they were going to war? She’d always liked cutting through the chaos of a battlefield in a deadly whirlwind of sharp teeth and flashing hooves, mowing down anybody who stood in her way. Something good, please, she begged the universe as the buckskin opened his mouth to speak.
And, immediately, Mystic knew something was wrong. Sterling’s tone was too crisp, too formal, as he began to talk. “Due to your excellent performance in the field, is had been decided that you are to help produce the next generation of fighters for our herd.” The mare was frozen, wide-eyed, her blood feeling like it had suddenly turned to ice. She was… being taken out of the field? To be stuck in the lands of her tribe, carrying parasitic little brats? No! It was impossible!
Somehow, she forced her mouth to form words, to sound casual and not like her world was falling apart around her. “Okay, really funny. Now what’s my actual mission.” Sarcastic words fell from numb lips. She still couldn’t process it. Sure, her work had gotten repetitive and too easy, but it was still actual work, not sitting around being bored while some thing lived and grew inside her body.
“Mystic, I’m serious,” came Sterling’s reply, earnest and bright. “You have been called to serve our herd, and I have been given the honor of being the first to breed with you. So, if you would tell me when you’re ready, I can… um… you know, get the deed done, and escort you back to our herd lands.” Despite his embarrassment, the eagerness in the stallion’s tone was undeniable. Of course it was, how many times had Mystic had to punish stallions under her command for wasting time having sex with the mares that they should have just been killing? They just seemed to love that shit. For Sterling, this would just be a few pleasant moments and then back to his job.
The overo mare felt sick, her stomach churning. No. This wasn’t happening. This was not fucking happening. She was one of the best they had, damn it! Didn’t that give her the right to be out in the field! Her ears flattened back against her skull, her body tensing like she was preparing to strike. The stallion looked a bit nervous. Then, Mystic had an idea. A giant, life-changing sort of idea, but one that was infinitely better than just allowing herself to be bred and forced to carry a child. She took a deep breath, composing herself, though desperation still sang through her veins. This felt like launching herself off a cliff, unsure of what would meet her at the bottom. It was an unfamiliar feeling for the mare, who rarely thought twice about her choices, but this one was big. “Okay, Sterling, here’s what I need you to do,” she began, her voice low, conspiratorial, friendly. “Go back without me. Tell them you found my body somewhere, or that you couldn’t find me at all. I’ll leave these lands, travel so far away that nobody will find me. I’ll cover my tracks well, you know I can do that. Nobody will ever discover that I’m actually alive.” He would listen to her, right? He seemed to like her, at least, judging by the way he seemed to find excuses to speak to her. She could only hope he would go along with her plan. Otherwise, well, she supposed she’d have to kill him.
The look on the buckskin stud’s face was one of shock, of open surprise. Of course it was, she was going against the will of the herd commanders, and it was unheard of for anybody to just leave. But what could she do? The alternative was unthinkable, and besides, the work was getting boring anyways. But then the look on his face hardened, and the bad feeling in the pit of Mystic’s stomach deepened. “No,” he said stonily. “I cannot allow you to betray our herd like that.” And then, suddenly, he was in motion, springing towards her.
But Mystic’s reflexes were lightning-quick, and she dodged his attempt to grab at her mane with ease. “Come on, man, don’t make me have to kill you.” She didn’t strike yet, giving the stud a chance to change his mind. She did, after all, know him. It seemed odd to not at least give him a chance to see sense. Sterling whirled and moved to strike again, trying to subdue the mare so he could mount her and do his duty to the herd. Mystic twisted out of the way again, wincing as his teeth grazed her shoulder. It seemed that he wasn’t giving up easily, the look on his face so focused that she wasn’t even sure if he had heard her words. “Please, Sterling, it’ll be really easy. All you have to do is tell the herd that I’m dead.” And yet the stud wasn’t listening, coiling to strike again, a crazy sort of light in his eyes. Mystic allowed herself a sigh. Poor fool, why did he have to do this the hard way?
The two horses circled each other, body language predatory, eyes sharp as they searched each other for weaknesses. It was Sterling who struck first, Mystic still hoping that he would realize that fighting her was an idiotic move. The overo turned away, striking out at the stud as she turned to make another attack. He was trying to force her to meet him directly, where he could use his greater mass to his advantage. But Mystic danced around him, sleek and nimble, trying to slowly wear him down with quick strikes. The deadly dance continued, and soon she had the taste of his blood in her mouth, and he was beginning to falter, tiring. Mystic, too, was covered in sweat, but kept up her nimble steps and rapid strikes. Her body was sore from blows she hadn’t managed to fully dodge as the two skilled assassins continued their battle, but she could tell that Sterling had things worse, sore and bleeding from the many rapid hits she’d managed to land on him, and tired from trying to keep up with her quickness.
But he fought on, determination blazing in his eyes and fueling his actions. It was clear to Mystic that this would be a fight to the death, that he was not going to give up and go along with her plan. He charged at her once more, and she met him in midair as they both reared, forelegs tangling together as they struck at each other with open mouths. The mare used her shorter height for leverage, pushing upwards, trying to knock her opponent off balance. The two of them struggled for a moment, then the stud stumbled over a rock as he fought to hold his balance. He toppled over backwards, and Mystic was on him in an instant, ripping his throat open with a flash of teeth. And then, the stud was still. “Sorry, Sterling. You left me no choice,” Mystic said softly as the buckskin breathed his last, his eyes slipping shut. It was funny, all the death and pain she had caused others, and this was the only one that she felt some guilt over. But she couldn’t have him running back to her now former herd to have them send a search party after her. Getting caught and killed was not her goal for the future.
A future that now loomed in front of her, vast and exciting. Once she got far away from the lands that she’d once prowled, she would be free. No more repetitive missions, just doing whatever she wanted when and however she wanted to do it. Bicolored eyes brightened, head and tail lifted high with excitement. Then, Mystic took off to the south, galloping into her new life.
Words: 1,851
After taking another moment to admire her handiwork, relishing the familiar pride of a job well done, Mystic turned to head out of the forest and locate the rendezvous point where she would receive her next mission. The trees passed by quickly, the local fauna practically undisturbed by the mare’s efficient, near-silent strides. Although she remained instinctively alert, scanning the trees around her with bicolored eyes as her flicking ears and flaring nostrils took in the sounds and smells of the forest, her mind was already wandering ahead, wondering what her next mission would be. Probably something boring, she thought with distaste, a herd of mares and foals that couldn’t even put up a fight or some single, overconfident idiot of a stud. But maybe she’d be lucky. Maybe she’d get to revel in the looks on the surrounding equines’ faces as she killed a feared warlord or something exciting like that. Oh, the fight would probably be slightly harder than usual, too (but still too easy), but the reactions from the followers that thought their leader was invincible would really be the most entertaining part. Lost in thought as she was, the edge of the trees came up quickly on Mystic, and from there the nearby peak where she was to receive her next job was easy to spot.
Fit and nimble as she was, the overo mare had barely broken a sweat when she reached the rocky peak, eyes falling on a buckskin figure, also battle-scarred and powerfully muscled, though slightly taller and bulkier. “Hey Sterling,” she said casually; the stallion was a year older than her, and had an odd predilection for seeking her out during the rare times when they weren’t busy with missions, so she knew him better than she knew some members of their mercenary band. “Playing the messenger today, huh? Please tell me you’ve got something interesting for me this time.”
Sterling shifted slightly, Mystic couldn’t quite tell if it was from anxiety or anticipation. Either way, her interest was caught, eyes brightening as she eagerly wondered what could be causing this reaction from her acquaintance. Something big, she hoped. Maybe they were going to war? She’d always liked cutting through the chaos of a battlefield in a deadly whirlwind of sharp teeth and flashing hooves, mowing down anybody who stood in her way. Something good, please, she begged the universe as the buckskin opened his mouth to speak.
And, immediately, Mystic knew something was wrong. Sterling’s tone was too crisp, too formal, as he began to talk. “Due to your excellent performance in the field, is had been decided that you are to help produce the next generation of fighters for our herd.” The mare was frozen, wide-eyed, her blood feeling like it had suddenly turned to ice. She was… being taken out of the field? To be stuck in the lands of her tribe, carrying parasitic little brats? No! It was impossible!
Somehow, she forced her mouth to form words, to sound casual and not like her world was falling apart around her. “Okay, really funny. Now what’s my actual mission.” Sarcastic words fell from numb lips. She still couldn’t process it. Sure, her work had gotten repetitive and too easy, but it was still actual work, not sitting around being bored while some thing lived and grew inside her body.
“Mystic, I’m serious,” came Sterling’s reply, earnest and bright. “You have been called to serve our herd, and I have been given the honor of being the first to breed with you. So, if you would tell me when you’re ready, I can… um… you know, get the deed done, and escort you back to our herd lands.” Despite his embarrassment, the eagerness in the stallion’s tone was undeniable. Of course it was, how many times had Mystic had to punish stallions under her command for wasting time having sex with the mares that they should have just been killing? They just seemed to love that shit. For Sterling, this would just be a few pleasant moments and then back to his job.
The overo mare felt sick, her stomach churning. No. This wasn’t happening. This was not fucking happening. She was one of the best they had, damn it! Didn’t that give her the right to be out in the field! Her ears flattened back against her skull, her body tensing like she was preparing to strike. The stallion looked a bit nervous. Then, Mystic had an idea. A giant, life-changing sort of idea, but one that was infinitely better than just allowing herself to be bred and forced to carry a child. She took a deep breath, composing herself, though desperation still sang through her veins. This felt like launching herself off a cliff, unsure of what would meet her at the bottom. It was an unfamiliar feeling for the mare, who rarely thought twice about her choices, but this one was big. “Okay, Sterling, here’s what I need you to do,” she began, her voice low, conspiratorial, friendly. “Go back without me. Tell them you found my body somewhere, or that you couldn’t find me at all. I’ll leave these lands, travel so far away that nobody will find me. I’ll cover my tracks well, you know I can do that. Nobody will ever discover that I’m actually alive.” He would listen to her, right? He seemed to like her, at least, judging by the way he seemed to find excuses to speak to her. She could only hope he would go along with her plan. Otherwise, well, she supposed she’d have to kill him.
The look on the buckskin stud’s face was one of shock, of open surprise. Of course it was, she was going against the will of the herd commanders, and it was unheard of for anybody to just leave. But what could she do? The alternative was unthinkable, and besides, the work was getting boring anyways. But then the look on his face hardened, and the bad feeling in the pit of Mystic’s stomach deepened. “No,” he said stonily. “I cannot allow you to betray our herd like that.” And then, suddenly, he was in motion, springing towards her.
But Mystic’s reflexes were lightning-quick, and she dodged his attempt to grab at her mane with ease. “Come on, man, don’t make me have to kill you.” She didn’t strike yet, giving the stud a chance to change his mind. She did, after all, know him. It seemed odd to not at least give him a chance to see sense. Sterling whirled and moved to strike again, trying to subdue the mare so he could mount her and do his duty to the herd. Mystic twisted out of the way again, wincing as his teeth grazed her shoulder. It seemed that he wasn’t giving up easily, the look on his face so focused that she wasn’t even sure if he had heard her words. “Please, Sterling, it’ll be really easy. All you have to do is tell the herd that I’m dead.” And yet the stud wasn’t listening, coiling to strike again, a crazy sort of light in his eyes. Mystic allowed herself a sigh. Poor fool, why did he have to do this the hard way?
The two horses circled each other, body language predatory, eyes sharp as they searched each other for weaknesses. It was Sterling who struck first, Mystic still hoping that he would realize that fighting her was an idiotic move. The overo turned away, striking out at the stud as she turned to make another attack. He was trying to force her to meet him directly, where he could use his greater mass to his advantage. But Mystic danced around him, sleek and nimble, trying to slowly wear him down with quick strikes. The deadly dance continued, and soon she had the taste of his blood in her mouth, and he was beginning to falter, tiring. Mystic, too, was covered in sweat, but kept up her nimble steps and rapid strikes. Her body was sore from blows she hadn’t managed to fully dodge as the two skilled assassins continued their battle, but she could tell that Sterling had things worse, sore and bleeding from the many rapid hits she’d managed to land on him, and tired from trying to keep up with her quickness.
But he fought on, determination blazing in his eyes and fueling his actions. It was clear to Mystic that this would be a fight to the death, that he was not going to give up and go along with her plan. He charged at her once more, and she met him in midair as they both reared, forelegs tangling together as they struck at each other with open mouths. The mare used her shorter height for leverage, pushing upwards, trying to knock her opponent off balance. The two of them struggled for a moment, then the stud stumbled over a rock as he fought to hold his balance. He toppled over backwards, and Mystic was on him in an instant, ripping his throat open with a flash of teeth. And then, the stud was still. “Sorry, Sterling. You left me no choice,” Mystic said softly as the buckskin breathed his last, his eyes slipping shut. It was funny, all the death and pain she had caused others, and this was the only one that she felt some guilt over. But she couldn’t have him running back to her now former herd to have them send a search party after her. Getting caught and killed was not her goal for the future.
A future that now loomed in front of her, vast and exciting. Once she got far away from the lands that she’d once prowled, she would be free. No more repetitive missions, just doing whatever she wanted when and however she wanted to do it. Bicolored eyes brightened, head and tail lifted high with excitement. Then, Mystic took off to the south, galloping into her new life.
Words: 1,851