land over land
creeping and crawling
creeping and crawling
Wren stilled as Colt spoke, the words landing heavier than she expected. They were not harsh, but firm in a way that left little room for anything else. For a moment, she just stood there, caught between instinct and understanding, biting her lip from the inside. Her gaze dropped briefly to the offered hand, then lifted again to Colt’s face, searching it, not for softness, but for truth. And she found it. A small breath slipped from her, “Yeah,” she said quietly, a faint huff of something almost like a laugh following. “I’ll try,” she said, meeting Colt’s gaze, “to --” a small, uncertain smile tugged at her mouth, but she lifted her voice a little louder, “uh, cowboy up.”
Her hand came up then, a little hesitant at first before she placed it in Colt’s, grounding herself in the contact. Young, ready, and still knew to all of the world around her, Wren turned her attention to the horses. "Is that one for me to, uh, ride?" The thought of riding her own horse lit something bright and buoyant in Wren’s chest. Not clinging behind Colt, not borrowing balance or courage, but sitting tall in her own saddle, reins in her own hands. Excitement curled through her, threaded with nerves, eager.
Her hand came up then, a little hesitant at first before she placed it in Colt’s, grounding herself in the contact. Young, ready, and still knew to all of the world around her, Wren turned her attention to the horses. "Is that one for me to, uh, ride?" The thought of riding her own horse lit something bright and buoyant in Wren’s chest. Not clinging behind Colt, not borrowing balance or courage, but sitting tall in her own saddle, reins in her own hands. Excitement curled through her, threaded with nerves, eager.
like the sea over sand
still I follow heartlines on your hand
still I follow heartlines on your hand
Wren
