PRIVATE | Hostage

The rickety cart, finally empty, came to a gentle halt before he would have parked it within the safe
corner of an a narrow alleyway intersecting the much wider street. With the final delivery having been made for the
afternoon, the youth had felt content enough that he could slip out from the confines of his tack and let it rest where
it lay on the pavement. Jala's stomach had been howling since noon; he hadn't eaten since dawn, the poor fellow, and
he'd been more than ready to grab a small snack to tie himself over before he'd make his way back to Tethis' office.

Sweat stuck to his ruddy coat. It gathered particularly around his neck where his collar had been snug. The heat of
the sun had been gathering warmth in its leather all day. Relieved to be free of his cart, the young stallion sauntered
jovially into the street again, blissfully unaware that a chase was gradually making its way into his path.

He had been lining the little stalls, golden eyes browsing wares in search of a ripe fruit to purchase when outraged
shouts had begun to bleed into the background. Those massive, funny-looking ears of his shot up, and ever so slowly,
he turned around with the rest of the crowd lining the streets to investigate.

Down across the cobblestone came quick footfalls, followed by many more. Mares quickly gathered up their children
and tried to make a break for it in less conspicuous areas. Stallions reared up, curious of what the source of the
outbreak was. They were attracted like flies, rounding the center of the road where a hippocampus mare had soon
sped down.

Some would gasp, and others would shout out some warning or curse for her to stay out of the way. But, as Jala had
observed earlier, a few were content to stay and watch the action. He on the other hand, was more than ready to pick
up the pace and make his way to his cart again. He wanted no part of the violence and it made his appetite drop--
maybe out of self preservation.

So, it was unexpected, even by some of the crowd watching curiously, that he'd very suddenly feel himself being pulled
into the fray. The teen, just barely out of colthood, had ducked his head low and tried to trot through the crowd, but he
must have been forced to navigate a little too close for comfort. "Gah!" Jala didn't even have time to struggle; he froze
up completely, head held high and ears keened upward when he noticed the knife being held up against his throat.

Half of him wanted to put up a fight. But the other half--the younger half--wanted to cry out in panic. He managed to keep
both sides at a stalemate and kept calm, but anyone who looked close enough would probably see that the teen's legs were
starting to quake.

"J-Jala..?" He manages through a panicked, whispery croak. The quagga swallowed, and felt a lump form in his throat right
where the blade was. It wasn't even pressed harshly against his neck, yet he could already imagine it being cut through...

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Word Counter: 534
Tags: Zomsith

Under closed, quivering lips, the teenaged horse had grit his teeth hard, moving his jaw slightly as he felt his
muscles tense against the cold steel of the dagger still held gently against his throat. He managed an exhale, though it was
shaken and nervous, laced with traces of a panicked wince.

He shuddered, the snake-like tone of her voice having sent a shiver down the young quagga's spine. Her words begged an
explanation from him, but with a knife at his throat and no strategies formulating in his mind to escape, the boy was in no
position to argue.

When the blade began to press gently as if to urge him to move, Jala did not resist, lest he'd be risking his own skin. His
massive ears pressed further against the outline of his skull, neck stretching as high as possible in some feeble attempt
to keep the cool blade as far from his throat as possible. It was a metaphorical bit, with the mare being the reins of a bridle
that slowly pulled him further from the crowd.

A few stallions wanted to follow, and horrified mothers, pitying the young hostage, cried out in terror. Both of them were held
back by guardians who would rather see the situation under control rather than let it grow more chaotic than necessary. With
the recent paranoia that had been slowly tearing the herd apart, they did not need another outbreak in the streets over the
safety of a horse barely out of colthood.

His breath grew hasty as they fell back into the darkness, wary, dilated eyes staring up at the glimpses of sunlight that
barely showered down between the two surrounding buildings. Once the shadows of the narrow alleyway had swallowed them
both whole, he at last felt the blade be taken away from his throat. Jala's breath hitched, and then he let out a big gasp for
air that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "W-what?" While he struggled to recompose himself and swallow down the lump
in his throat, she had spoken. His words were merely said out of confusion and absolute bewilderment. Otherwise, the stallion
was speechless while he tried to reflect on whatever just transpired.

He wouldn't have time to question her. He felt an aggressive nudge from the hippocampus mare and that urged the stallion to turn
around and run. He didn't care where he was going, or why, all he knew was that he was running and he was running away from her.
Or so he'd hoped.

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Word Counter: 424
Tags: Zomsith