It was something deep inside, something as rich as instinct and just as powerful. Heath couldn't explain it; he couldn’t even describe how it happened or how it felt. But it could not be ignored. Lumière watched the patched youth with intensity, her head just Heath’s shoulder. He could not see the dark eyes watching the light gazing stallion, or he would have noticed that she watched him with a hard and trained glare. She was testing him, tempting to see if he would break the calm and question her place among the hoofed beasts. Heath only gave the apple, and stepped back. The unnamed stallion followed, ignoring the mare and keeping his interest on the coy-wolf.
This was what Heath had wanted, and paused in his retreat, finding the stallion still keen on his intent as he had walked towards him so that his flank was closest to the canine. Heath reached for it, gently and speaking through the soft touch he asked for his acceptance. The horse’s shoulder was pale, bright and whiter then any snow Heath had ever seen. The black was inkjet and crossed around his stomach, the blotch so round and crisp that not a single black stand melded with one of alabaster. Solid pieced placed together to create this soundless creature.
He took his time, Lumière watching as always, and learned from the horse. Could he pluck this young steed from the herd without much of fight, not even a whinny or snort? The Marshal did not even question it, he did not even think beyond the feel of the muscle below the perfect pelt. Nothing beyond the rush and push of his breath, nothing beyond the silence that fell between them. Like life pouring out of each of them and melting into one. The rope, looped as the apple in his hand served as hi distraction, and soon it was around his wide powerful neck.
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