&& this is my brave face [open]

The mare, fairly light with age, breathed deeply of the bayou air. The thickness of it - no, the dampness of it - made her lungs feel heavy. A little light headed, Gwyneth took to walking carefully, placing each hoof on what seemed like the most solid ground. She could hear toads and frogs croaking at each other, as if they were engaged in some wild debate over the weather in the mire. Wetland grasses stuck up this way and that, sometimes shielding deep mud spots from view. More than once a hind leg found one of these spots and she sank nearly halfway up her cannon bone. With a squelching noise loud enough to wake the alligators (or crocodiles, she didn’t know), she pulled up the trapped limb to find it smeared with mud, turning her almost-white coat a nasty shade of brown.

It must have been a good half hour of squelching and unsticking before she heard anything other than the whining of nasty mosquitos and the bass harmony of the frog meeting. By then the poor mare was sweating from the exertion even in the low heat, but the humidity wasn’t helping. Still, she was in good spirits and determined to take everything in stride. A loud, obtrusive voice startled her and she looked up, half expecting to see an alligator crawling out of the water to start a conversation. But no! It was a horse, same as she was, coming towards her and speaking in a strange accent. The mare stared at him without comprehending - he really was hard to understand. “Er...” That was the intelligent first remark out of her mouth. Wonderful manners, just wonderful. As if I could be any more rude... She stood there for a second, trying desperately to latch onto some form of speech that made sense... Finally something clicked; he had said something about fillies walking in, that there weren’t many who did, she guessed. Ducking her head with embarrassment, the mare peered at the obviously older stallion through her lashes in order to get a better look. He was quite...scruffy. Yes, that was the word. “I, ah, just crossed the border from the, ah, the woods actually,” she explained. Mother forgive her she was so off balance from this stallion that she was tripping over her own words.

ooc: this was fun to write!
word count: 390+
tag: armand, open
muse: burnt out wildfire forest on the road to Dease Lake

Gwyneth ducked her head sheepishly like a young filly at his blunt examination of her predicament. Here she was, a mare of her age, stuck...well, stuck in the mud. Her hind legs wiggled almost uselessly in the thick, gooey liquid. With a sigh of embarrassment and futility she looked up at the old stallion and moved her hooves to the spot that he had indicated. Sure enough, her hooves only squelched down a couple of inches. “Alright, here we go.” With a great heave the pale mare pushed herself onto her front half. Her hind legs resisted and caused her muscles to burn, but Gwyneth was finished with being stuck and helpless. She grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut while pulling her rear end up. Mercifully, the mud shifted and released her body, allowing her to finally reveal her hocks and then her fetlocks, and finally a pair of very muddy back hooves. She nearly collapsed with relief and fatigue, but caught herself and only stumbled forward slightly. Her sides heaved as she tried to catch her breath. She was still panting when she opened her eyes to look at the old stallion. A tired smile crossed her lips and she let out a breathy chuckle. “You were right,” she panted. Sweat clung to her forelock and made her hair stick to her face. She was still light headed, and as such leaned to the side a little more than was wise, causing her to stagger in that direction. I could use a good nap now, she decided. Looking up once more, she smiled at him in a friendly way. “My name is Gwyneth, by the way. Thank you for helping me.”

ooc: merp.
word count: 290+
tag: armand, open
muse: ---