Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom Stallion or its characters. They all belong to the lovely Terri Farley.
DIALECT
Sam and Jake are standing on the boards of the round pen, peering over the top to watch the filly that had been brought to River Bend only a few days before. She's angled herself so she can keep an eye on them and stands across the pen, quietly drinking from the full water trough and lazily flicking her tail at the flies that are settling on her back. Every once in a while, one gleaming copper ear will flick towards the two teenagers in interest, but she doesn't make any other move. A small tree, barely more than a sapling but already tall and thick with leaves (and not much older than the filly herself) grows outside the pen. The green canopy, low as it is, shields her from the worst of the sun, casting a dappled pattern of sunlight and shade onto her newly washed coat.
"She looks better," Jake says, voice steady and quiet, so as not to spook the peacefully drinking horse. Sam nods.
"They had to sedate her a lot, but the farrier came and cleaned up her feet so she can at least walk without pain. The vet said her legs are fine, even though no one knows how long she'd been hobbling around on those overgrown feet, and she doesn't have anything else wrong, physically, except for being a little underweight," Sam explains. The filly's head perks up at the sound of Sam's voice and, for a second, Sam thinks that she might come over to investigate but she stays put in the end, wisely choosing to avoid the humans she can't distinguish from the ones who had caused her such suffering in the past.
"Name her yet?" Jake asks, giving Sam a look out of the corner of his eye. Sam nods in affirmation, and it almost makes ever-stoic Jake crack a little grin at how determined this girl is.
"Phoenix. Gram suggested it and it's perfect, really. She's gonna rise from the ashes." Sam's firm voice might have shocked Jake once, but he'd learned that if there was one thing Sam was good at, it was standing up for those who can't do it themselves. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jake has an inkling that this particular mustang won't be making her way to another home once she's fully rehabilitated, through the HARP program or otherwise - the younger teen already has too much of an attachment to the abused little filly.
"Gonna have to learn a whole new dialect to work with this one, brat. She's not gonna be easy," Jake warns, but Sam just smiles softly as she watches Phoenix. The filly has lifted her dripping muzzle from the water and is gazing at Sam with interest, her delicate ears tipped forward and her head up in blatant curiosity.
"She'll be worth it, Jake. Watch, you'll see."