[♔Voltaire♔]

“I’d like to help harvest!”
Username:♔Voltaire♔
Buttermilk: Sakura


“I’d like to help harvest some more!”
Username: ♔Voltaire♔
Buttermilk: Sakura
Word Count: 157 words
Prompt:
Sakura is more quiet than she is outgoing and social, sticking to caring for her many plants, as well as the gardens at Firefly Valley Farms. When not around her plants she is comparing her horoscopes to those who she could only dream of talking to if she only had the courage to do so. Though Sakura may be a fan of horoscopes, she isn't one for the baseless stereotypes society seems to propagate concerning certain star signs, and is more than happy to talk to someone if they only initiate, no matter if they are a Pisces or a Gemini. When meeting new Buttermilks, the first thing Sakura always asks is their star sign, and if the unsuspecting moo answers the question she rambles on about natal charts and tidbits of trivia according to your horoscope. She may even ask you what your Chinese zodiac is, which will prompt the same response if only you answer!

[yeena]

“I’d like to help harvest!”
Username: ceance
Buttermilk: Wulfe


“I’d like to help harvest some more!”
Username: ceance
Buttermilk: Wulfe
Word Count: 1400
Prompt: Wulfe was never a social man. After a terrible sickness through his family that was passed through social interactions, he kept mainly to himself and decided that it was the way to live his life. He cultivated himself without the social interaction from others and it was enough to keep himself happy and satiated; until he joined a social house of the sorts during college and find a lot of other young men that took immediate interest in annoying him until the ends of the planet. While the other guys were obnoxious, he found some kind of comfort in their stupid antics and actually enjoyed scoffing at the aftermath of their stupid stunts that they would pull. It wasn't surprising that while he never got close to them, he kept in contact with all of them after college ended.

He found that as the first opening to the social world. He still didn't really like interacting with people directly, but he was at least more open to the idea of standing near other individuals and not sneering or curling his lips in some kind of disgust at them being so close to him. Now he could stand on subways, buses and in other heavily populated, public areas without so much as raising an eyebrow at someone brushing against his arm. It might not have seemed like a large improvement, but it was like Wulfe had just now jumped off of a building and reevaluated his entire existence as a breathing human.

Wulfe might have kept in contact with people, but keeping in contact is subjective. His form of contact was saving people's numbers and names in his phone and always having them there to contact if it was necessary. Not necessarily talking every day, all day. One name stood out in specific in his list, however. Among all of the masculine names was a fairly feminine, dainty name: Bianca. Bianca was his only female friend and they weren't particularly close, but they would work on projects together when the time came around. Sometimes they would be at the same mixer party. He could always sit in silence with her and it would feel natural, accepted. She never tried to force conversation out of him, but she would ramble for hours next to him. At first he would block out everything she said, overtly irritated that she never got the hint.

But then he realized that she wasn't talking for his sake and she never seemed to care whether he listened or not. She had caught on early that he didn't talk much and she wouldn't push him, but she also wouldn't stop her own roll for his. He respected this about her and slowly started to listen to what she had to say. She would ramble off about some things and he noticed that she would speak about him too, making comments about how she knew that he probably wasn't listening but that she enjoyed his silent company nevertheless. He smiled one time when she was commenting about him and he felt everything suddenly falter around him, her syllable skipped a beat and she was sent staring at him with her bright eyes. His secret was out the bag, he listened to her.

College came and went and Bianca's name stayed in his phone as a contact. She had forcibly put her number in his phone when he went to get another drink at a party, warning him that he should put a password on his phone. While she was awfully sweet, he wasn't surprised to have their contact go stale when college ended. There weren't any projects to do or parties to attend, it was natural.

Until he got that message, of course.

It was a casual day, one where he went about his business without really thinking about it because it was so ingrained into his mind to just silently go through his routine. His phone suddenly buzzed and the initial sound scared him in all honesty, he had never received a notification before. It was a text message from Bianca, inviting him out to lunch if he was still in town. He was genuinely stunned for a couple of moments, memories flooding in about her once again. She was a sickly sweet scent stained in his mind and the more he thought about it, the more he missed her bright company. As a result, he accepted her text message request and they met up at a local cafe the following hour.

She was still as sweet as ever and he enjoyed having her around again. Unlike college, she stuck around this time. They got close and he finally opened up to talking to her, slowly but surely. She coaxed him gently out of his social shell, laughing softly when he would stutter over his words and guiding him on how to deepen his voice and project his voice more outwards to seem confident. She gave him a lot of the useful information that he knew today, she would lay next to him when he was sad and she picked him up when he felt like everything was crashing around him. For more reasons than one, he was glad to have met Bianca and he made sure to show it through dorky smiles with sharp canines and genuine character around her.

She was the reason that he met Morgan.

Morgan was a flawless man with a large heart and even larger passion for plants. He worked at a simple plant nursery, carefully trimming dead leaves, sifting fertilizer into pots and sorting plants. Wulfe was taken aback by the man at first, scoffing at his obsession with plants and nature. The way he would talk about the obnoxious, chattering squirrels made Wulfe's head hurt. Everything about Morgan made his head hurt- the way he carried himself with his chin high and shoulders squared, a chipper smile always plastered across his face despite the situations surrounding him. Originally, Wulfe despised how happy Morgan was. He always seemed too happy for his own good, too excited to be living in a cruel world.

Bianca had been planning something with him and he didn't realize it until she arranged a date for all of them together but she skipped. As a result, him and Morgan had been left at the movie theaters alone without the woman to keep Wulfe from telling Morgan to shut up. Morgan felt bad to have him leave without watching a movie, though, so he was forced to go through the long lines and sit and watch a movie with the insufferable man regardless if his savior female wasn't there to filter his tongue. Surprisingly, Morgan didn't anger Wulfe and he felt unnaturally calm sitting so close to the other man in the darkness. It almost made him think of when he first met Bianca again, except they both sat in silence this time, enjoying the sound of the movie.

It took only a few months before Wulfe was comfortably touching his forehead to Morgan's, cuddling and basking in the soft sound of the rain outside. Morgan was already asleep; he had quickly learned that Morgan was a quick but relatively light sleeper. He didn't necessarily like any background noise, but he could tolerate rain as long as it wasn't pounding against the roof. He had a fear of shadows lurking in the dark, so Wulfe would cover him with their blankets and make sure his arms were tight to protect Morgan from whatever demons lurked beyond the bed. They had a couple of plants in some dainty pots surrounding their bed, lightly causing a natural aroma in the room.

Bianca still joined them for their dates sometimes, when she had time. She and Morgan would talk each other's heads off while Wulfe sat next to them, silently sipping at the coffee that kept him awake through their senseless rambling. He originally would've hated this position, holding hands with someone else and listening to constant yapping. But in this day, he was quite content with the people he stuck around and loved deeply, and nothing would ever make him regret his simple lunch date with the woman that he would sometimes party with or work on projects with. It was truly funny and mysterious how life would work out, much less for a man that never had it all until the day he finally did.

[BadgerBuddies]

“I’d like to help harvest!”
Username: BadgerBuddies
Buttermilk: Breezy

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“I’d like to help harvest some more!”
Username: BadgerBuddies
Buttermilk: Breezy
Word Count: 267
Prompt:
Breezy doesn’t consider herself anything out of the ordinary. In her mind, she’s just kind of, there. That doesn’t bother her though, she doesn’t always mind being more in the background. As long as whatever she’s doing brings her joy, that’s all she needs to be happy.

To go along with this, Breezy is the poster child for an ambivert. She does quite enjoy her alone time and will occasionally need her quiet alone time to recharge her social battery. She already loves yoga regardless, but during these times, she really depends on it. If you find her in her more introverted states, she will be much more hesitant or shy to say hello. If you expect a greeting from her while she in deep in thought, doing yoga, hiking alone in the woods, or anything else she does to recenter herself, then you’ll be disappointed. She is often so wrapped up in her own mind and focused on being in the moment that she won’t even notice you. Many Buttermilks who don’t know Breezy yet and meet her when she’s in this state think that she’s pretty rude, but it’s just that she’s a master a silencing the world around her in order to meditate.

There are other times when Breezy is much more an extrovert. When she’s in these states, she thrives on social interaction, and can often be found saying hello and giving out compliments to absolute strangers. When Breezy is feeling this way, she loves inviting her friends over for bonfires for chatting and stories, and of course, to toast marshmallows for s’mores!

[chanhee.]

“I’d like to help harvest!”
Username: besieged
Buttermilk: nova

“I’d like to help harvest some more!”
Username: besieged
Buttermilk: nova
Word Count: [179]
Prompt: nova's not the best at meeting new people. when she was younger she could sit and talk to new people for hours and loved to be in groups, but as she grew older the old her died. she started closing herself off and would wait for people to reach out to her instead of vice versa, and it left her lonelier than she'd ever felt. she lost the touch she used to have for charming others, and now when introduced to someone new she comes across as snippy and rude because she doesn't talk much. it's made her very nervous about meeting new people and when she's able she avoids it altogether, though it seems that here she doesn't have much choice, as she bumps into people every way she turns. the number of times nova's bitten her tongue because she went to start a conversation only for the person to either not be paying attention or they turn their attention to someone else has her bleeding and she goes silent, closing herself off but keeping her head high.

[acadicus]

“I’d like to help harvest!”
Username: acadicus
Buttermilk: Nessa

“I’d like to help harvest some more!”
Username: acadicus
Buttermilk: Nessa
Word Count: 129 words
Prompt: "Oh, new people? Heh. Well, if you ask... I think most people wouldn't exactly call me the talkative type. I tend to stick around the plants and such more often than not. They don't judge when you mess up and they won't tell anyone their secrets. I do enjoy a nice chat with a new face or two, but I can have trouble initiating conversations sometimes. It's hard, you know? I mean, I'm talking now. But I shouldn't take the time of other cows to talk about myself. I don't need to burden them with my problems. I suppose I've gone off on a tangent, haven't I? This probably doesn't make too much sense anymore. I better get back to crop picking. Thanks for the talk, I appreciate it."

[Knickknacks]

“I’d like to help harvest!”
Username: Knickknacks
Buttermilk: Thalia

“I’d like to help harvest some more!”
Username: Knickknacks
Buttermilk: Thalia
Word Count: 153
Prompt:

Thalia isn't the most naturally outgoing cow- in fact, she can be a bit moody, and especially as a young calf was highly resistant to the idea of meeting new cows. She would pout and skulk behind her foster mother Beverly's legs, waiting for the stranger to leave.

Beverly, though, was always a kind and welcoming heifer, and an example to her adoptive daughters. Some of her openness has undeniably rubbed off on Thalia over the years- and so while Thalia still wouldn't consider herself to be a naturally outgoing cow, she's gotten better at making acquaintances with others. And, she's found, the small talk she used to be so resistant to? It's... not as bad as she would have thought. Though at first meetings she can still come off as being a bit uncomfortable or standoffish, she's developed a genuine interest in others that'll shine through if you stick around long enough.

[Ravendarus]

“I’d like to help harvest!”
Username: Ravendarus
Buttermilk: Lydia

“I’d like to help harvest some more!”
Username: Ravendarus
Buttermilk: Lydia
Word Count: 238
Prompt: Lydia is a little sassy and brash, but usually she can be pretty nice to her friends. To strangers on the other hand she came come off as stuck up or snooty, however growing up with her father she isn't afraid of hard work. When she sees someone not working hard whether she knows them or not she will absolutely get in their face about it. One of Lydia's first meetings was with Marshmellow and they actually got off on the wrong hoof at first with Lydia scaring the snot out of Marshmellow who was trying to work up the courage to ask for a job. Lydia ended up apologizing and bringing her to the farm her father owns. Since then they have been close friends and now Lydia has a little half-sister named Venus. Needless to say Lydia is usually pretty quick to judge but can easily be turned around if she feels she has made a mistake. Lydia often tries her best but she has a short fuse if she meets someone rude she will respond just as much, she really can't help it and would likely not make good friends with them. Lydia will be the first to say hello most of the time when it comes to first meetings so she can judge by the others reaction. If she deems them worth talking too she will likely continue, if not she will move on.

[Venatici]

“I’d like to help harvest!”
Username: Morghettio
Buttermilk: The Holy Trinity

“I’d like to help harvest some more!”
Username: Morghettio
Buttermilk: The Holy Trinity
Word Count: 2057 words - which, is, apparently equal to 8 pages... oops, sowwies
Prompt: Morgan has gone... up, down, and all around this farmer's market today. When Elizabeth speaks to him, though... it makes Morgan pause. Everything else he has done today, thus far at least, has given him an immediate thought. How does he really react when he meets new people? What is the first time he met someone? This question, seemingly sent from above, puzzles him like an all too difficult Rubik's cube. It seems so incredibly simple to everyone else, especially to someone who has not suppressed most of their memory. For Morgan, though, the proclaimed god of the forest... when... when has he? ...

Morgan thinks very well back. The thought settles on him like a cloud, at first so faint, but hitting him like a fog shrouding his senses.

To clarify, it was not that Morgan never wanted to be social. When the young man was even younger, at an age where he cannot even reminisce on, Morgan had a very happy and amicable life. He hit those "critical" stages that everyone beckons about: the first few handfuls of life where, if they go right, the rest of your life should go right too. However, Morgan's did not. His went... well, putting it bluntly, quite terribly. Getting tossed around and around like clothes in a washer, coveted for being "good" and "obedient". Like he was a dog. These sorts of traits... these behaviors that the child would strive towards like a never ending marathon would be his weakness. After all, if someone was softhearted and kind in his ways, it made it very easy for others to take advantage of his kindness. If you took a hammer to a piece of tissue paper, it would break without resistance. There would be no shatter.

However, Morgan never viewed this as a weakness, fatal flaw, hubris... even as a child, Morgan reckoned that if someone was using him for their own good...

It meant that the people who were being cruel, and downright awful to the young boy, needed help too. So, Morgan made every effort in his little body to help them as best he could! Morgan would always go to extreme lengths, talking Mount Everest journeys here, even as a child to help those who needed it. In his mind, the more they struggled with treating others... the more they wrestled with themselves.

The forest god wanted to be social... Morgan originally craved to be loved, much like anyone else would, but it was instilled for him to be around others. However, after all this time without any true help... he grew weary. Morgan decided he had enough. While his "parents" were inside a quick mart store by the highway, the young teen now took it upon himself to just... run away. And, funnily enough, his "parents" paid no mind. By the time they cared, and by the time they got home and let the issue sit for a while, Morgan had already passed through enough areas to find himself in a swathing abyss of forest.

Never having a home as a kid... feeling like he did not belong... but this forest, filled with its high tree tops and cavernous depths... the rivers that swarmed through, plants bludgeoning through the light... everything, so incredibly violent... it became his home. The untamed, dangerous forest became a kind, welcoming place, taking Morgan in with open arms. This forest, running swiftly and brimming with animals not found elsewhere...

How am I when I meet new people?

The forest was sweet for Morgan. When he met the forest, he immediately found love here where he did not find love elsewhere: especially when it came to "objects" that other people dismissed. Plants always had a very special home to the boy... no matter how battered they were, Morgan always found a way to make them bounce back, starting from a little sapling. It was like he had a magic touch, and soon his living space became a "mess where I know everything is" with plants. It was easy to find where Morgan lived: anyone who wanted to find him easily could. You could not, however, go there with an ill intent: because any animal perusing you on your way to endanger the sweet forest guardian would stop you deftly. Even if you got beyond the animals... it seemed like the forest itself prevented you from entering, getting swallowed by the masses of trees that all looked the same (unless you were Morgan).

Morgan never had any trouble with animals, no: even the most dangerous, wicked, wild beast in all of the forest would come to the gentle forest guardian for help. Even if it just meant Morgan sitting, and listening, and letting them rant, Morgan would let them. If it meant Morgan leaving their favorite food where their den was, Morgan would do it. He very quickly became dubbed the "guardian" of the forest- especially for the white, luminescent trails his butterflies left behind him.

The butterflies were the most important to him. They seemed to be gentle guiding spirits for Morgan: they did nothing but follow the now young pre-adult around, helping him when he needed aid. This was not at all to say that Morgan never paid mind to anyone else: if you asked Morgan the first lynx he met, or the first big koi fish, or the first littlest worm... he could tell you their names. He remembered a face better than anyone else, that was for sure. Morgan could remember everything like a phone, and even remind you: if you asked for the most niche food that this one specific raccoon liked, Morgan could tell you without a shadow of a doubt that it was orange coral mushrooms, because "nothing else tastes the same".

If you asked someone else what their first meeting with Morgan was without saying his name, it is very easy to know who they talk about. Even past his gentle ways, other individuals make sure to help Morgan: it was once said that "Morgan is allowed as many favors as possible, as many as he might need... because I know that he will use it to help others". This rings incredibly true.

When was the first time I met...?

"Sometimes it knocks the breath right out of me, realizing how lucky I am to be here and alive." Morgan states simply, as if it was as simple as a "hello" without any other meaning. He looks out the window, before turning back to Wulfe and smiling wide. "I am lucky."

Wulfe probably looks at him like he is crazy, looks at him like he has twelve heads and eight eyes.

How do I meet people? Is it...

It was when Morgan started becoming a young adult, or in the eyes of society, a "legal adult" when the young forest god got dubbed his title. It was also around, this time, that Morgan was told to try and experience life "fuller". Morgan always heard through whispers that there was a life beyond this forest: Morgan had, earnestly, forgotten. So enthralled and enticed by the forest, Morgan... completely wiped his earlier memories of life from his mind. The "real world"? Morgan had no idea what it was. However, after so many years dedicated to the forest, which was his home and lifeblood, Morgan felt... reluctant to leave. He felt like a god of a forest shrine: and being dubbed this title did not help his case for leaving. It felt like his bones being hooked.

In the end, being walked out by his butterflies that only a select few could see, Morgan decided to forge out into the world where... pretty much all other buttermilks lived. Holding a desecrated backpack one of his animals brought him, and wearing dirty clothes another animal gave him... he ventured further outside the comfortable, warming escapes of the forest.

Oh.... now... now I remember. The first time I met them.

It prefaced with Morgan almost getting arrested. He looked rancid and wild, which was true, but after some confusion, the police eventually ascertained Morgan was not going to hurt anyone, they released him and sent him along his way with resources to live contentedly. It just so happened that along his way towards a shelter, Morgan ran onto college grounds. Of course, he had... no idea what that was. But luckily for him, it was around the time that admissions were being decided. It was also, of course, around this time he met a professor who focused on botany. It, of course, was also during the time when Morgan was carrying a plant hybrid he made that was never seen before. The professor stopped Morgan, and inquired about this little double flowering plant: and after some long talks, Morgan changed his direction and walked towards a cute and quaint little plant nursery. He now had an faint idea for a "job" ("but why would you get paid for something you can do for free, to help others?") and how to learn more at this "college".

Enter: Bianca. Morgan took part time classes at the college, and would run into Bianca. Morgan had an outrageously friendly demeanor that was so strong you could practically see it. Having Bianca meet Morgan was much like how he met everyone else: unrealistic... outrageous.... truthful. When Morgan asked you if you needed help, you knew he meant it. This drew in people who had troubles or needed advice, and soon enough, the college campus became like his forest once more. This might have been... well, sort of a concrete jungle if you would, but... Morgan started to find himself at peace again. He would tend to plants, do his duty as an underpaid manager, and make sure everyone left happy. Somehow, just somehow, Morgan even got Karens to be placated: and he would not even need to give them a refund. It was almost like he had a serum to fix everyone's problems.

My first meeting with Wulfe...

Morgan greeted the toothy man with more than enough teeth: because while Morgan was grinning wide, with a soft edge on his face, Wulfe was not. Morgan had no idea that it was annoying to Wulfe, but Morgan treated him like everyone else. Wulfe was given love, attention, care... Wulfe was given hope, the same hope that radiated from Morgan. Unlike others, though, Morgan's hope only got bigger with Wulfe. His first meeting with Wulfe resulted in the movie theaters: and while Morgan did truly struggle to keep a cap on his amazement (because- wow! Morgan had never seen this before!), Morgan found himself sitting in comfortable speaking silence. His butterflies flipped around: both the metaphorical butterflies in his stomach, and the luminescent butterflies flittering around Wulfe's head... around his feet... around the hand, extended closest to Morgan.

"Sometimes it knocks the breath right out of me, realizing how lucky I am to be here and alive."

He would never give anything up for Wulfe. It definitely... took a lot for the forest to get used to Wulfe. However, Morgan is at peace. He remains the god of the forest, checking in so often: but when he is with Wulfe, he is just.... Morgan. He does not need to be a guardian of a whole community. He is allowed to be afraid of the dark. Morgan met Wulfe like he meets everyone else: with the force as strong as a hurricane, but as gentle and kind as a small puddle lapping at your toes. Morgan greets everyone not just as a stranger, or a friend: but as family. There an ungodly amount of trust that people give to Morgan. It almost rewards itself, because those who seek out Morgan tend to spread. Sometimes, Morgan gets so overwhelmed that Wulfe has to politely remind shop-not-shopgoers that Morgan needs to tend to the plants in his nursery.

When I met Wulfe for the first time...

It was like being hit by a train. Morgan shifts a bit, in an amount so dismal it almost goes unnoticed if not for his husband's cunning senses, cuddling further into Wulfe. Letting out a small and incredibly gentle but remiss sigh in his sleep, the young man leans forward to sleepily smooch the other young man laying next to him.

"I love you."

[Winter Shores]

“I’d like to help harvest!”
Username: Winter Shores
Buttermilk: Antheia

“I’d like to help harvest some more!”
Username: Winter Shores
Buttermilk: Antheia
Word Count: 438
Prompt: Antheia looked at Elizabeth, her crystal blue eyes taking in her features. Elizabeth had a sweet smile, a nice glow to her aura, and gentle eyes. Antheia could feel the positivity radiating off of her. She enjoyed it. People like her were always sweet. Antheia never assumed the worst in anyone because that was wrong. People should be judged upon their actions not first appearance or their actions. That was cruel and honestly she despised people who judged too quickly. Thinking about it now her head filled with a memory from the past precisely the first time she had actually met anyone outside of her homelands. Her mind faded into the memory being consumed by it.
She was running through the forest that was on the farthest side of the ranch. She always enjoyed it, it was peaceful and calm. As she came to a stop she bent down near a creek to take a sip of water. She was not paying any mind until she heard someone clear their throat. She looked up her eyes shining, her ears perked up, and her stance in the position to run at any moment. As she looked cross the creek there stood a tall moo, draped in vines and moss. At first glance he looked scary, terrifying even. She backed away from the creek just in case. The moo looked down at her, a grimmance appearing on his face. “I suppose you are judging me currently, it’s like I can see the gears in your head running almost as you are about too.” She nodded, he was right she had judged him. He shook his head at her in a sad manner and bent over to take a sip from the creek between them. As he came back up he looked into her eyes. She could feel the wisdom coming off of him just by the glance. “Never judge someone on appearance, for someone with a mean face could have the nicest smile and the purest heart. Not everything is meant to be shown on your sleeve. You learn to read people as you get older and sure it makes things easier but you still could be wrong. Come back tomorrow on your own accord and you might be able to get to know me better. For now go home and rest, Antheia”
She hadn’t told him her name so how did he know! Quickly she spun and ran through the forest. She was cold and scared and wanted to be in the safety of her barn. But as she ran she thought, ‘What if I do come back tomorrow.”

[DarkestWerewolf]

“I’d like to help harvest!”
Username: DarkestWerewolf
Buttermilk: Aria

“I’d like to help harvest some more!”
Username: DarkestWerewolf
Buttermilk: Aria
Word Count: 655 words
Prompt:
While Aria never has any problems with interacting, she prefers to just stay quiet first. Aria isn’t picky with friends but she is picky with those she opens up to. Her ideal way would be to just watch them interact with someone else before she approaches them. Aria wants to at least know how they are with things and people. Eventually, she’ll start to warm up to them. She wants it to be gradual. She’ll start off with being hi-bye friends or just small talk as they graze together. She’s okay with silence most of the time. Eventually, Aria will start to talk a bit more and open up.

This was her first time meeting Karys.

Aria was grazing out in the pasture, nonchalantly looking around. The barn dog could be heard herding the ducks in the distance. It was a peaceful day for her but she could see her stable-hands rushing about and preparing things in a hurry. One was rushing in with hay, another with bedding, another ran around with a hose.
What could they be up to now?
Aria’s herd had always been wild but with recent changes, they’ve now more or less chosen to give up that wild life and live with the people that her herd grew close to. They will come into the pasture to graze and when they feel like it, they’ll let the helpers know that they want to leave the pasture. The helper would open the gate for them and the herd would be back into the open. By evening, they’ll come back and sleep in the pasture.
Soon, a trailer pulled up and stopped. Silence filled the air for a few seconds before a barrage of kicks could’ve heard from inside the trailer. One unlatched the door and three people could be seen going into the trailer. Not long after, one came rolling out. He quickly got back on his feet and hurried back in. It wasn’t long before a mare stepped out, three people trying their best to lead her. A simple rope lead was all she had. Her eyes were covered and she was carefully led into the pasture. One of the helpers quickly ushered the Aria out of the pasture. She did so but continued watching the wild mare slowly be released into the pasture. She had the brightest set of eyes ever. A set of brightly coloured pink eyes looked around the pasture before bolting off.
The mare was wild. She was running about everywhere, trying to kick at the fence, rearing and bucking around. It wasn’t long before she spotted Aria.
“You! Help me out! Get me out of this stupid imprisonment!” She yelled.
Aria stepped back, slightly intimidated by her.
“Calm down first. You’re not imprisoned.” Aria replied.
“I am! My home belongs where you are. Out in the open space! I want to be free! I don’t want to be stuck here. I don’t like any of this!”
Aria sighed. She could understand where the mare was coming from. The pasture was just a measly patch compared to the wide open fields. However, there were perks to staying at the barn. Aria wanted to share so many things with the new mare. She was determined to show her that it wasn’t as bad as she thought. The buttermilk looked at her. Eyes full of despair, anger and stress. She looked like she was about to cry. Aria quickly headed around the pasture towards a barrel. The mare keeping an eye on her but not saying anything. Soon, she fished out an apple. She placed the apple on the ground and rolled it towards the mare.
“Let’s try to get you feeling better first. Apples always work for me. What’s your name?” Aria said quietly.
The mare looked at Aria before setting her sight on the apple. She picked it up and ate it in a few bites.
“Karys.”