Samanayrs

Pride was running haphazardly through the woods, dodging under branches and snorting with delight at the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the way his hooves seemed to pound when he galloped on hard ground or give soft cat-like footfalls when he was on a cushion of grass.
He was free, free to run and leap and climb, to hunt and fight and go wherever he wished. He scorned the towns and crowded hot springs that others flocked to, preferring the wild hollows and glades under starry skies. He ran in storms until he was soaking wet and splattered with mud, cut himself on branches and thorns, and their was no one to scold him.
He was never used to the constant babble of Samanayrs speaking, and though he admired the Sharians and such, he wasn't one for the... closed-in spaces of towns. Even streets made him twitchy. He needed space, freedom. He loved not being tied down to anyone or anything.

But it was so lonely.

He'd never admit it to himself, but perhaps why he hunted so vivaciously was that he craved the attention of another creature, be it a woodland critter, predator, dragonet, or another Samanayr.

He snorted, not letting his mind dwell on any of these thoughts as he slid to a halt, sides heaving as he eyed the rustle of branches ahead and above him, baring his teeth in a feral grin as his violet eyes glinted. He leaned back to grip to bow in his maw, sliding his tongue along the smooth worked wood in concentration, as he flicked an arrow to sink into the clay beside him, carefully knocking it in a seemingly awkward posistion. There was something resting their in the trees ahead, probably drawn to the stream that lay ahead; though he could not see it, he could hear its dancing laughter.

Rustle found herself, once more, at the stream that seemed to beg for her attention. It was a clean stream, sheltered by the forest and littered with the shade-bringers and the light-catchers. But that did not stop this bubbling stream, which grew wide and thin, shallow and deep. It's pebbles were nicely rounded and were the kind that felt delightful to rub on after a long hot day. So she could count herself lucky when she had chanced upon this part, where the water did not tug too hard and allowed her safety as she basked, or cleaned herself.
Her wonderfully mixed grey-silver, blue and green self wasn't hot today, the day was mildly tolerable with the heat. She supposed it was her wandering mind, ears always filled with gentle swishes and flicks, which she adored above all things. Her mane and tail were littered with the little white flowers that grew there, not to mention the mini-willow that so survived on her ever since she was the newest of foals.
Slowly she dropped her head, letting her equally blue and silvery-grey lips grace the fresh bubbling waters. Her long mane slipped into the tiny, gentle current as the wispy leaves of her little willow followed suit. She suspected nothing, granting the forest its cause to say when danger would arise, if there was any. Slowly, she started to slide one green cloven hoof into the water.

Pride raised his head, violet eyes aglow as he reared up, one leg stretched to brace against the bow, the other out to steady him, as he drew back the arrow, eyes narrowing at the soft rustles that spoke things to him that not many other Samanayrs would understand. A soft snort blew from his flaring nostrils as he pulled his head back more, letting the arrow fly.
The arrow cut through the air with a whoosh of a slice, arcing through the leaves out of sight.
Splash!
Overshot! In his excitement, he had pulled back to far, and the seemingly graceful shot had too much momentum and had carried into the streambed. He growled softly, annoyed at his own oversight, dropping to his forehooves and, slinging his bow over a branching wing, charged forward through the foliage to retrieve his arrow before it was swept away by the current. His flame-like mane dancing along his neck as he leaped over a patch of brambles to crash into a frame a bit smaller than his own, a look of surprise flashing on his face before he tumbled down to the ground in a tangle of branches, tail, and long legs. He had assumed the creature fled from the impact of the arrow, and was totally taken off guard by the figure he ran into before he had even gotten a glimpse.

(Whoops Pride. I think you're the one who will be swept away. *sniggers* Sorry dear, I had to x3)

Rustle went very still when the arrow landed with its splash into the stream bed, near two inches shy of her nose. She blinked slowly. Very slowly. It had almost hit her. The arrow must have been shot by someone close by. She was still blinking slowly, a teeny tiny part of her shouting as loud as it could in her brain, saying, You could have DIED fyrom that!
But Rustle wouldn't pay attention to THAT voice. She was alive and well, so why should she fret? By then she was just about to reach out to pick up the arrow from the pebble strewn stream bed. She was as happy as ever, her big blue eyes still just as bright as they were before she had her 'near death' experience. She would return the arrow back to its old owner and all would be good, then she'd be able to lounge in the water and cool and water herself down.
She was taken by surprise, then, at the creature, for she did not exactly see what it was, when it collided right into her. She couldn't help it. She let out a tiny noise of startled surprise as the pebbly ground rushed up to greet her.
Her nose hurt then, seeing as a few large pebbles were now smushed up against her nose as if they were trying to grow arms and hug her. Her hind legs, with their long tufts, splayed out and back on either side of her. The pebbles weren't good to stay stationary, as the ground under them was ever so slightly mushy from the water so close. Her forelegs went straight forward, making her stretch out more then she would have normally liked.
She stayed still, blinking for a moment as she slowly turned her head slightly to look at the creature that had brought her into such a predicament. Maybe this was the arrows owner, coming to retrieve his property?

He snorted, a tail drooped over his face, making him shake the tickling hairs from his muzzle, eyes opening to suddenly lift his head with a soft groan at the shock, his body sore from the impact, as he blinked at the fine silky blue, green, and white hairs tumbling over his nose. He snorted sharply, jerking as he did so, his ears pinning back. What on earth was this?! He raised himself up, stumbling some, spreading out ruby hooves as he stared down at the awkwardly-lying mare whose nose was buried in the pebbles.
A mare?! another Samanayr?! He hadn't been this close to another in ages and he found himself with a dropped jaw and a quivering muzzle. He hadn't caught her scent, or heard her at all, and that thought drove him crazy.
He slowly spoke with a low voice, looking baffled on how to handle this situation.
"Uh.... hello?" He coughed awkwardly, flicking his tail wildly, shifting some.

Rustle blinked at the Samanayr, for he could surely be nothing else but. He was tall, and had wings of branches and leaves, something much different then the skin or feathered wings she had always known. Slowly she shifted her gaze, pushing her hind legs up first, so that her butt was up in the air first. Her green-silver-blue-and rather white tail with its flowery friends slightly puffed up.
Then she turned her head towards the arrow and plucked it out from the bed of pebbles and rocks. She brought one green hoof under her, then the other, until she was standing tall again with a swing. Her rock pendant beat gently against her chest as she turned her head to him with a mild, not at all accusing blink. The leaves from her small willow tree swept into her eyes, but she didn't mind, she could still see past them perfectly find. She held out the arrow in her mouth before she chose to respond.
"You should be moyre cayreful with these, it neayrly washed away." She tipped her silvery-blue head to the side, and a bit of green-white mane slipped over her face and across her neck. She smiled serenely, letting that be her hello instead.

He stared as the mare rose, trying to keep from getting a face full of tail, blinking as she turned, grasping his precious arrow in her maw. He was about to reach forward to snatch it from her lips, when he found his eyes looking her form over, a form of pebbled blue, silvery gray, green, and white, perfectly camoflagued on the stream bank. Her eyes shone blue, her mane and tail silky and light like wisps of misty clouds. Even the air around her seemed calm and quietly delighted to be in her presence. The forest seemed to perk up around her, and the water laughed with greater delight.
He blinked dumbly, maw opening quietly, totally caught off guard by the fluttering in his stomach.

Rustle blinked at him quietly, saying nothing as his gaze took her in. She held his arrow still, as her head slowly started to tilt, making the small leaves and her mane rustle softly, ever true to her name. Quietly she flicked her flower strewn tail and blinked at him again, waiting for a reaction of some sort. But she took the silence to look him over again, to study the flame like mane and tail, his great green antlers, the spots of green and brown. He was definitely interesting to look at. Slowly she lifted her head up more and said past the arrow to him. "I'm Rustle of the Willow's Tears.. Who ayre you ayrrow beayreyr?"

He blinked slowly, trying to yank himself from the fog that had overcome him so easily. He murmured slowly as she spoke, trying to puzzle out her name in his muddled mind. "Uh... What?" He quickly shook his head, feeling like a complete fool in front of her for just staring.
"I'm... Pyride." He grunted out softly, then continued hesitantly. "Of the....Misguided Ayrrow. Like that one..." He nodded shyly to the arrow, looking down some, coughing roughly, his long tail swishing and flicking like flames over his earthy-pattered back.
He glanced back up with wide purple eyes, trying to smile, but feeling embarrassed.

"Pyride," she half purred softly to herself, as if working out the name in her head so that it would hold there in a memory place. Her differently colored lips wiggled over the arrow shaft as she studied him then dropped her head some, still looking up at him, but now from a different angle.
"You come often?" Rustle said after a pause, still past the arrow. She was starting to lick it, as if it were some treat she found to eat, her lips still wiggling every so often to hold it better. Her little fluttering willow leaves fell into her eyes once more as she stepped back and then stepped forward. He looked interesting, tall, and probably strong as his body showed. His voice was interesting as well, though he didn't seem to know where it was.
Rustle walked up suddenly to him, right up close, without hesitation. She pushed her nose right up against the branch-wings and sniffed. She could always take the easy way out and say that her upbringing, divided between two dragonets, and a lamanayr mare and her dragonet, brought her to a tricky way of acting around other samanayrs, because of her lack of interaction in her younger years. She could also admit that this stallion fascinated her enough to start poking him with her nose. She turned her head, and the arrow tip caught some on the flame like hair of his, causing her big blue eyes to slide over and look at the glittering clean hairs.

Her soft sweet voice, like necter from the flowers on her neck, was delightful upon his ears, especially on how she spoke to him. His violet eyes were focused completely on her, totally forgetting all about the hunt and whatever creature he had been following. Conversations in the past had always been cumbersome and in the way of his goal; he wasn't good at holding a conversation anyway. However, this was different, though he still felt thick-tongued and befuddled on what to say, his stomach kind of flip-flopping.

"This... I've been... maybe once...?" He wasn't sure anymore, eyeing her and her posistion, almost stepping away when she approached, blinking quietly as he felt soft lips touch his branches, making them quiver accidently, a leaf brushing her nose. The way she had been licking his arrow and approached him so openly may have seemed awkward to others, but for some reason, he felt himself thinking that it was rather... cute.

Wha? Cute wasn't in a hunter's vocabulary! Even if he never killed for sport or things weaker than him, he still never thought of things as such. He blinked his eyes in confusion, drawing himself up higher and tucking his nose against his neck in embarrassment.

Rustle gave a slow nod, her nose quivering slightly as she lifted her head to pull the arrow away from his mane. As she did she spied the quiver, and blinked again. She supposed she had to return it, because he knew she had it there was no way of getting to keep it.. She licked the arrow again and put it tip down into the leather (GUESSING~) holder. Then she returned to his flame like mane. it was shorter then hers, but still interesting.. Rustle pushed her nose into his mane, just as she did to his branch wing, and took a deep and curious breath. It was fresh, like the forest after a good clean rain. Slowly she looked up at him again, tilting her head which whispered softly as she did.

"Does youyr tongue tie often?" She asked, her voice soft and clear. She asked from curiosity, not to be rude, because she thought the question was simple enough. She gave him a little sort of smile as she swished her multiple colored tail, which accidentally brushed his flanks.

She swung her head around again and touched his branch wings. She couldn't help it... Sort of... She touched her nose to one of the leaves and sniffed at it again, ears pricked forward as a bit of willow leaves got caught to the tip of one.

He blinked at the gesture of her despositing the arrow into his quiver, and he suddenly felt an odd swell of generosity, and nosed the arrow, about to open his mouth to tell her to keep it, when he felt a soft delicate muzzle in his fiery locks of mane, making him freeze, his mouth slightly agape as he slowly glanced down without moving his head, swallowing in a far too loud noise for his pounding ears.

"I... well... I don't talk much." His voice was low and a bit gruff with misuse, trying not to shudder at the silky brushing of her tail, swallowing again, shifting on his solid ruby hooves, wings flapping once, tossing his antlers a bit. "S-sorry." He murmured, his voice a husky baritone, as he eyed her as she touched his surpringly sensitive wings, slowly leaning closer, trying to be bolder as he touched his lips gently to the feathery leaves of the willow tree. She smelled of the earth after a long rain, with flowery undertones, sweet but subtle.

Rustle bobbed her head some at his sorry, and continued nosing his wings without a worry. Her whole body went still at the touch of his lips to her little tree. Her tail twitched, and then lifted, and stayed curled over her back. She didn't think, and a moment later she lifted her head, smacking her nose into the underside of his chin, and producing a surprised squeak from her. Shocked, she backed up, her eyes slightly fuzzy for a second at the rough knock her soft nose had received, all on her own.

"S-Soyrry," She squeaked, wrinkling and then letting her nose relax. Rustle glanced down with embarrassment coursing through her. Of course she would do that, she'd probably run off the first new same she'd talked to in ages.

He was enjoying the sweet presence of her company, as he quietly sniffed at her again, suddenly recieving a rough knock to his jaw, making it ache as he scrambled backwards, shaking his head from side to side. His fiery hair rose and fell against his neck as he snorted heavily, shuddering once, antlers rocking at the sky. He swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the slight pain in his jaw, eyes refocusing on her, slowly moving closer.

"Rustle..." Her name felt so sweet, like honey, on his lips, as he tilted his head. "I'm not... mad... I've had fayr woyrse while on the hunt." He nodded, looking a bit unnerved by her quiet upset expression, quickly grabbing the arrow and offering it. "Heyre... have this!"

Rustle couldn't help but feel terrible for knocking him, it must hurt, judging by the pain flaring through her nose. She quivered like a tree that was rocked with the harsh winds of storms. She looked up at his words, and stared at the arrow, her big blue eyes going huge. She liked to hear her name spoken by someone new, it felt... good.

"But... This is youyrs!" She stared at him. They were practically strangers still. "Pyride... I... Couldn't.." Her eyes almost immediately filled with tears as she inched towards the arrow, her soft leaves giving little rustles at the movement. He had an interesting name to say, he looked like he could be full of pride, if he wanted.

Pride snorted softly past the arrow, lowering his head, watching her inch forward like a frightened doe, as he rumbled softly and tilted his head, swallowing nervously and finally speaking again.
"Please take it. I insist." He hated the look of water welling up in the sweetness of those blue eyes, and refused to let her know that it was his prize arrow he was offering up, the only one remaining of the small clutch of Sharian-made arrows he had been given on his one fateful trip to a small town, where misfortune had befell him, and he had been kindly given his bow, quiver, and that clutch of arrows. He had others he had made himself, but they did not fly nearly as true, despite all his practice. However, all thoughts of that disappeared as he focused on her face, stretching out his neck with the arrow grasped in his lips.
He had a new prized possession on his mind now, that wasn't quite in his grasp, but was seizing ahold of him tighter with every passing moment. He flicked his ears back some shyly and tried to keep from looking down. He was often arrogant or prideful, distant to other Sams, but he felt that outer showiness melt away around the soft swishing of her voice and presence.

Rustle stared, still watery eyed, at the generosity of this stallion. As he stretched closer, she shifted closer as well, bumping her nose against his as she was trying to take an end of the arrow, letting out a little sweet puff of surprise. With a meek blue blink of sorry, she took the arrow slowly. She couldn't help but feel like this was something fragile, even though she had seen it bed itself into the pebbles of the stream bed with ease. Her blue eyes started to sparkle as a thought struck to life in her mind, and lifting her head more, she blinked at him with almost thrilled excitement whooshing out of her.

He felt their soft skin brush and the warm feelings, the stirrings of a hunt, ran through him, making him flick his tail wildly, the red and yellow snapping like flames being stoked by the wind. He snorted softly at the puff of sweet-scented breath, and took a slow step closer, so their noses pressed more firmly together. He softened his mouth to let her take the arrow, studying her as her eyes that were more vibrant than water dancing in the sunlight engulfed him, and he felt a goofy grin break across his face, the white stark against the soft tan of his coat, his violet eyes gleaming with delight.

Rustle felt her own tail twitch at the sounds of his fiery tail going, keeping her eyes evenly on the stallion without looking away. Her surprise was overwhelmed with delight as Pride stepped closer and pressed their noses together more. Now with the arrow in her mouth and tongue starting to curl around it more, she studied his face at the now closer sights. His smile was striking against the mild fur that seemed to hide him well, and it made her smile as well. Puffing out a quietly contained breath, Rustle said softly.

"In my name, I want you to use this ayrrow." She looked at him, suddenly even more bright eyed and completely different then the teary gratitude that struck her like an iron grip. She offered the arrow back to him as she started at him still with those bright blue eyes, her tail wiggling with excitement, making little rustling sounds with it.

His ears tipped back, feeling a bit awkward until she returned his grin with a smile that seemed to be made of pure sweetness, and felt an odd tremble in his knees as she did so. Her patterned face was delicate, and she moved with long silky steps. He wondered how well she could run with those long flowing tufts, though they were beautiful, accenting every step she made with dancer-like gracefulness, bending with her body like willow branches in the breeze.
Inwardly he scoffed at himself for thinking so poetically, though he couldn't help it, since he loved ballads of any sorts. He started musing quietly as he watched her, about a poem forming in his mind for her, full of similies and poetic language.

When she spoke again, he jerked some, blinking some with wide purple eyes, jaw dropping some, before closing his mouth again. He leaned forward, taking the arrow after a moment, laying it down and pulling out his bow again. "T-thank you... I will tyry to do my best... would you like to watch?"

Rustle tilted her head some to study him, and then glanced down at the bow. "Of couyrse I'd like to watch," she nodded sweetly and then backed up a pace or two to move to his side. Her eyes roamed back to the bow, to study it again.

"Why do you not have moyre ayrrows?" She asked suddenly, looking at him for the answer. A breeze that barely made it blew through the thickly inhabited forest, making her little willow tree flutter around her ears.

(*cringes at shortness, hissing*)

Pride grinned again and started testing his bow string, saying as he worked. "They'yre hayrd to make, and I have a few moyre, its just that they ayren't Shayrian made, which ayre the best, because I don't have hands, I have hooves. I can make them, but it takes a long time and they'yre clumsy." He took the end of the arrow in his mouth and nocked it, bracing one hoof on the wood and rearing up on his hind legs, gripping the string in his teeth and taking a very awkward-looking posistion as he drew back the string taut, before letting it fly, straight into a dead trunk.

(*cringes at own shortness*)

"Oh I see," Rustle said softly, watching the arrow fly into the dead tree trunk, her eyes a bit bigger. She smiled again, bright eyed as she turned her head to look at him again, "You'yre quite the excellent shot." Innocently she shifted closer as she wiggled her flower filled tail. "How long did it take you to leayrn you could do that?" Quickly she turned to the tree and ran towards the tree in a smooth flowing motion as her long tufts, tail, mane and willow leaves caught the wind behind her. Slowing she pulled the arrow out and turned to trot back up to him, coat faintly glimmering.

He felt a warm flush creep through his veins, of delight of being praised, and a bit of his normal pride. He looked into her sweet face though, and felt any boasting he desired to do quickly fade, saying slowly. "Well... it took... alot of pyractice. I fell on my face alot. Sometimes it still snaps back and hits me in the face." He looked down at that, looking embarrassed, starting to shift away, wanting to blend into the scenery again instead of be under that bright blue stare as he admitted to faults. She must want a wonderful stallion... thats what she deserves... he though to himself wistfully, and was surprised by the thought, and looked at her again with big baffled violet eyes.

He watched her retrieve it, watching her dancing canter, eyelids lowering thoughtfully. She was like a wisp of mist and blossoms all carried by a breeze, or a laughing brook shimmering in the sunlight. She wouldn't want a silly boastful hunter, would she?