FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Shades of Grey

---

"You're ridiculous. No one's ever going to take you seriously, don't you know that?"

The chestnut mare set her jaw and threw a buck, head between her forelegs. The black stallion over the electric fence tape snickered and curled his upper lip back from his teeth. He could have pushed his way through the fence any time he liked, whether the current was on or not, but he wouldn't, choosing instead to taunt her where she could not get to him. Or perhaps he knew that she didn't dare send him packing with his tail between his legs either way. It wouldn't have been a lie.

Laughing at her antics, he shook his head, a long, flowing mane that hers could never rival rippling in a glossy wave down his neck.

"Oh, how sweet, was that supposed to put me off? A little buck and a hop? Do you think you can run away from the truth, foal?"

Snorting, she spun on her heels, red coat flashing in the sunshine. A day filled with so much turmoil should not have been so fine and yet that was how it seemed to be, the ever irreversible juxtaposition of the outside world against the inside. But what was one mare supposed to do against that? She flattened her ears and sighed, refusing to give the stallion the time of day.

"I'll find out what the truth is," she snorted, "whether you're here to goad me on or not. You can't spew lies while the truth is yet to be found."

"Oh, little foal, you already know the truth. And the truth is that you ruined that colt."

She reared her head back like a snake ready to strike, eyes wild and ears pinned.

"I did not! And he's not a colt either!"

The stallion nickered mockingly, bobbing his head.

"You called him that all the time."

She shook her head.

"He's young, it was a cute name. But he wasn't a colt and I'm sure as a donkey's arse not a foal either."

"So why was it okay when you called him that?"

She clamped her mouth shut and rolled her eyes, the whites showing around the edges in a dangerous rim.

"I don't have to justify myself to the likes of you, here to seed poison."

"Fancy words for such a stupid mare."

Her hide rippled as if stung, but she turned her back on the stallion, showing him her tail flattened down over her croup. He snorted and stretched out his head, upper lip wiggling enticingly.

"If you take her, you'll ruin her just like him."

She sighed. Would he never let up? That was, perhaps, a silly question, but she couldn't help but hope.

"I worry for that."

"Of course, you do. If you weren't worried, I would have no place here to nip and kick at your worries. You really do make it far too easy for me."

Stiffening, the red mare hunched her back, threatening to kick with one hind leg raised. She couldn't have got to him still, however, not unless she wanted to run the risk of tangling herself up in the double strands of fence tape. Cursing equine profanities mentally, she clamped her tail even harder over her hindquarters, not even giving him the satisfaction of an agitated swish. He would not have it from her.

He would not win.

"Be that as it may, but he wasn't ruined. A bit of schooling to bring him on, get him happier, and some veterinary attention for what we could not help." The mare bristled. "Accidents happen."

"You could have stopped the accident."

The mare rolled her eyes.

"I am not all knowing and, to be frank, if I was, I would be terrifying. The world just isn't ready for that level of awesome."

His ears flicked, nostrils flared to suck in air.

"You really think that about yourself? Haven't you learned enough to know that that simply isn't true and never will be true?"

It was the red mare's turn to laugh, kicking up her heels in a yearling's buck, throwing her cares and worries to the wind - or at least as much as any mare could.

"I can make it true!"

"Oh, you really are insane, aren't you? Just do us a kindness and take yourself off the yard, out of our space. There's no space for one like you here."

He paused, a glint in his eye.

"No one wants you. You should know that by now."

She swung about, her glare enough to make even the proudest stallion back off, her message well and truly conveyed. He, however, did not flinch from the snap of her teeth, clicking together over the fence where his neck had been just a moment ago. Snorting and puffing, he half reared, striking out at the ground with his hooves, which thudded back into the soft loam with a splattering of moist soil. She squealed, eyes flashing.

"No. You're wrong. There's not space for a dark horse like you amongst us. You were the one who was never meant to be here!"

With that, she spun and kicked, racing down to the end of the field as if the winged horses of hell themselves were on her heels. Her nostrils flared, a spot of blood trickling from the left one, but she galloped the fence line once, twice and then a third time as her mouth foamed and sweat lathered her sides.

She didn't look back to see if the black stallion was watching her.

Bordering two other fields, both of a respectable size for grazing horses, her field could be entered and left as and when she pleased - a supposed benefit of being the way she was. But, even with the gate swinging open, she couldn't have been more trapped. The mind had a way of doing that to a mare.

In the fields beside her grazed two greys, but, aside from their coat patterns, they could not have been more different. One, a mare, kept her head down, her sharply pulled black mane falling in a neat line down her neck. Clipped, she was rugged without a neck cover, just enough to keep the late summer chill from her belly. Her partner in the next field over had not had his summer dapples clipped away and picked up his head every few mouthfuls, ears pricked to catch yet another sound. Rest was rarely his as he struggled to settle in what were, to him, still new surroundings, but his companion of the mare had seen it all and turned back to her grass while others of her age were still cavorting and throwing a fit.

The red mare stood stock still, eyes flicking between them as the equines ignored her presence, tails lightly swishing away the occasional flies that dared to bother.

"I have to make a choice," she said aloud, though she may as well have said it in the sanctuary of her own mind for all the good it did her.

"And what choice will you make in your rocky trail then, mare?"

The black stallion was never far behind, somehow managing to make himself heard across the field as if he was standing right behind her. Heart pounding, she refused to baulk from his words, ears as soft as she could manage them. He would not win.

But what choice could she make? Which was the right one? Was there even a right one to be had? Sweating, she shook her head, forelock suddenly feeling too thick and heavy between her eyes. The shake, however, only succeeded in flipping it more obnoxiously over her right eye and the mare pranced, snorting and flipping her head in an effort to rid herself of the nuisance. It was always the way.

"Lost your tongue, little foal?" He cooed, the drum of his hooves echoing across the otherwise quiet fields as he trotted back and forth along the fence line, his paces floating. "Are you frozen, stuck in indecision?"

She shouldn't have answered him. And yet she did.

"The smartest choice would be to choose neither," she said at last, words only coming with difficulty. "Although she _would_have a secure home to return to if she did not find a happy one with us. That is a safety net, a comfort zone, to be considered too."

She inclined her head, a tip of one ear, towards the grey mare, grazing peacefully, but the stallion only laughed, a trilling whinny.

"You doubt even that. You're not good to be around equine-kind after what you've done."

Lifting her head, she set her jaw.

"Neither is one that brings so much unrest into the herd that it's no wonder that they start and skitter from you like yearlings out as a herd for the first time. Your effect is far worse than what little bumps and bucks I've had, in comparison."

"Ah, but dear mare - I am only here because this is where you want me to be."

"Then begone!" She screamed, throwing her body into a full rear and lashing out with her hooves. "You do no one any good! Leave and let us see the back of you! For good this time!"

The stallion seemed to consider her, ears back and expression bored, though she could not read him as a true equine could. Staunch and steady, she rocked back on her hind legs and bounced, digging up clods of earth and showing off the massive power beneath her coat, muscles bunching and releasing as if they yearned for motion.

Huffing and snorting, the stallion lowered his head and shook himself, a yawn stretching his mouth open to a gape that simply didn't possible for a horse - and yet it was. Her heart pounded, but she met his challenge with her own, until, with every appearance of a bored horse, he turned away, nosing in search of sweeter grass.

Her heart leapt, breath slowing just enough for her senses to return, the drama between fight and flight simmering down to a slow, ever present burn. There wasn't much she could do about that; she was a creature of constant alertness, after all. Fight or flight was just the beginning of it and fleeing was certainly more natural than charging into any fray.

And yet a stand-off at a distance could be won too. Snorting after the retreating equine, she pawed at the ground, alone with but her own thoughts for company. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have him out of her head.

"I'll still be here, you know," he neighed, making his voice carry. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

She cast him a wry smile - the best smile an equine could make with such lips - and flicked her tail.

"That I don't doubt. But be sure not to hang around for so long next time." She paused, one ear twitching away. "You don't belong here."

He did not grace her with a reply. Not that she cared.

Trotting up to the fence, she pushed her muzzle over the top plank and whinnied softly. The grey mare in that part of the field lifted her head, still chewing, and slowly made her way over, each stride long and steady. She was a beauty to watch in motion, yet her stillness radiated a sense of calm that somehow had the red mare's muscles unknotting, releasing tension that she had not known she'd sealed within.

Bumping noses with her over the fence, the grey mare shared breath with her in a friendly, equine greeting.

"Have you made your choice?"

Decisions so soon? Gulping, the red mare turned her head away: no. She had expected her friend, the grey mare, to show some disapproval - she was, after all, wiser and older - but the equine only chewed her mouthful of grass thoughtfully and lowered her head to graze once again.

"That's to be expected. Much is going on. It's better to let what will happen, happen, and then move forward. We can't walk on if there is an obstacle in our way. Everyone knows that."

"You can jump it," the red mare chimed in, obstinate to the last.

"True, but only if you choose to. What if you can't see what's on the other side?"

"Then that would be called a leap of faith," the red mare clarified, lowering her head as she chewed quietly, though there was no grass between her teeth. "And I'm not ready for that."

She winced, flank shivering.

"The last one didn't go...so well."

"But that was not your fault. You could not see."

"I know. It was the leap of faith that led to nowhere."

The grey mare surveyed her curiously, one ear pinned to her while the other listened, ever watchful, for danger.

"But you must be prepared for the next."

Sighing, the red mare bobbed her head in agreement, though could not bring herself to agree verbally. It was lucky that non-verbal communication ran so thoroughly through equine veins. She would have to make her leap of faith sooner or later, if she was to have what she wanted from life, but it could not be taken lightly. Certainly, the equine life was not one for the faint of heart.

Yet she could not dwell. The red mare shook herself, nipping at her flank where the sweat had matted up her coat into a particularly itchy spot.

Flicking her tail, the grey mare drew her attention back, gently calling her from her thoughts.

"When will we know?" She asked, tone light as if she was merely making friendly conversation. "What will happen to either of us, I mean? When the change will come, if at all?"

The red mare thought about that, nose wrinkling.

"Soon, I promise you. But, until then, you'll both have the best any of us can give you. And after that too." She dipped her head. "That's the least we can do for you."

The red mare sighed, casting the gelding a look out of the corner of her eye. As if sensing her gaze on him, as covert as it was, he lifted his head and nickered warmly, the low thrum of his voice more comforting than any grooming session could have been. She stretched out her neck and returned the sentiment, before turning back to the older mare, wise beyond her years with sympathy gleaming in her eyes.

"Look after my boy for me."