your father was a priest

Alaine Winters · 03-03-2011, 03:09 AM

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Word Count → 3+ :: table © sie

Maybe she would never have noticed him.

What a paradox that might have caused, perhaps changing the course of her life and her children's lives. An intriguing concept, that the motion of a horse's head could change the entire flow of her existence. But when Nana's nostrils flared, and the heavy-set beast lumbered to a halt and swung her doe-eyes head in way of the stranger, Alaine too followed the mare's intent with her own emerald gaze.

For a moment, she stared back at the fellow who was watching her. Hands tensed on the reigns, and sensing her mother's unease, Odette's wrigglings stilled. Nana seemed to pick up on her mistress' air of anxiousness, for she began to shift her weight on big dinnerplate hooves, and lash her unkempt black tail at invisible flies. Knowing that the lumbering mare's trot was almost enough to unseat her, Alaine didn't dare urge her on, and instead quietened the creature with soft mutterings. The equine's small ears curved back to catch the healer's gentle accented whispers, her words an ancient language lost to the new age of Nova Scotia.

She spoke Gaelic more often now, than normally, especially around the pups. Alaine lived in fear that her heritage would die out with her, and as such wanted to offer them the same bilingual skills that she had.

Her emerald eyes were sharp on the male, watching him warily. Horse and rider remained still, but one a whim, Alaine turned the rotund beast in a neat circle, keeping the horse's front between herself and the strange man. He was carrying a large sack, and her curiosity rang alarms bells, but there was something about the youth's appearance that twanged faint notes of familiarity in her mind. The mare's huge dinnerplate hooves plodded heavily with each step, and for once her size offered the colliewoman a sense of protection. "Who are you?" The words were called out in a curt tone. This land was not her land, but she had been in the area often enough, and have never before caught sight of him. Pupils narrowed suspiciously, "What are you doing here?". Awoken by her voice, Elvira began to squeak and yap, determined to see the cause of her mother's discomfort. The smaller boychild, Elijah, had also woken - But as often were their want, his eyes remained vague, peering out of the leather saddlebag with mild curiosity at the stranger.

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