The woods would not bury (Tall Grass Prairie)

In the midst of her stroll, the mare paused, ears flicking towards the chattering of Man and their speaking mounts. She pushed herself uphill, hooves surprisingly quiet against the dried earth. Her nostrils flared, top lip curling up to memorize. The bay mare was a good 13 feet away at this point. Her tail swishing as she arched her cresty neck, ears pushed forward.She speaks in silence to the horses, what is your business here? Her hooves strike the ground, as she replies a shriek. Her nostrils puff out dust as she dances closer, ears swiveling between pinned and pricked. 9 feet away.

Her ears focused on the Man, a group of three. Unfamiliar but she vaguely recognizes the scent of the lead from the strange but excellent scratchers on her trees.

The wind died briefly, leaving the grass to slowly still. The sky had gotten just slightly brighter, more of a blue grey in tone though the land was still dark. The first peeps of songbirds began to ring throughout the prairie, and the baying dissipated slowly, running further into the distance.

When the wind resumed, the bay mare inched closer yet again.