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The beauty had continued, seemingly innocent in her young years and unmarred appearance. Now she turns the crest of another hill, yet stops her steady trot to a stand-still as she watches the scene that unfolds before her. Curved lobes flicker forwards and backwards, warily and almost frighteningly, then finally rest pricked towards the immediate possible danger, and the brute. Slowly, imperceptibly, the deep, muddled brown of her optics change to a bright and clear chocolate, their luminescent quality fairly stunning. Her whole body tenses, then shudders, as she lets out a loud and forceful whinny. Anxiously, it seems, she paces alongside the rise, pistons flashing firmly in her quick animations.
She stops, frozen if you will, and suddenly is weak and unsure. She trembles in fear, and her limbs barely seem to hold her light weight. A lock of mangled gray strands of her forelock tumble over her forehead, shading her emotional and speaking oculars. The zephyrs sweep her vibrissa, like a majestic force pushing her to the east. But the breezes are soft, gentle, hardly noticeable, and she easily withstands them. Her poise is rigid, picturesque, and her dished cranium is directed towards the lone stallion in the valley.
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