SSWM - 590
This was who he was, only because it was what the horses had created. In the past he was no more then a selfish pup, taking what he saw fit and not caring who he hurt to get there. He hadn’t reached the point of rape and murder, but the male was on the path towards it. It wouldn’t have been long till he chose to take everything, without restraint. More then once he had attacked Dreamers on their own soil, tempting them to fight. He had beaten one, walking away with distain and disgust in his head. Then the woman, her vile breath still in his memory, had shown him their power. Deep in his heart he knew she was far from vile, green eyes a bright jade that could sparkle with strength and at the same moment a feminine fragility. She had sent his small lean body flying, and would have killed him if given the chance. But he had ran, and this was who he met. The grey blue mare, her dark face bringing him light, even through the dark ink pools of her eyes.
Time, patience. Trial and error had taught him the things that he needed to know. He spent his time reading, trying one technique and then another until it worked, but it only worked for a certain horse. When the next came along, he would need to tying and mold it once more to work for that mare or stallion. He had taught Stark, the pale stallion to follow Lumière, when ever they rode, and where ever they went. He trusted the horse with his precious Ruri, whose blindness made it once impossible for her to ever ride a horse. But not with the gentle beast, who was as calm as a warm spring breeze. Heath would move mountains for the woman, training the horse was only a small task in his unending journey in bringing her all the happiness that she deserved.
Gold eyes watched the exchange between the two creatures, and with the woman’s words she gave a nod. Still he did not give the mare the reigns, knowing that if he did she would push past him in hopes of examining the creature that was interested in her wolf hybrid. Lumière was more often then not possessive over the Marshal. He smiled at her explanation, finding it some what farfetched. The worst of it was that she did seem to be more of a princess that he would ever a knight. Her bright clean pelt, marked only by the ornaments carefully placed among the silk of her fur.
“A cowboy, perhaps. But, knights are too noble.” he spoke, cutting into those thoughts of her. From what he had read, a cowboy could e everything that he wished, a scoundrel or a hero. Heath was still a bit to rugged to hold the title of a hero.
She introduced herself and Heath looked back at her with an unmoving gaze. She had not given him reason to not trust her, but the scent of her triggered too many memories.
“Heath.” He answered the repeated question finally, giving her the bit that she wished for.
“Your in Cour des Miracles, lead by King Jacquez. I’m the Duc and Marshal here.” he paused, looking at the horse briefly and then back at the woman.
“If you aren’t here for trouble, then what?” The male asked, needed to know why he had found a Crimson Dreamer on his lands, and now admiring his mare.