04-16-2018, 04:06 PM
The arching bows of the trees overhead form a golden canopy, and the late evening sunlight dapples the forest floor in every shade of fire. It is has grown darker as I finished my journey from Loess to the heart of Sylva, but my pace has remained constant. There is a determined set to my navy mouth, and the slow flick of my curious ears do not bely the rapid beating of my heart.
This is the first time I have ever left my homeland.
I've never needed to, not when every whim was readily catered to. Yet as I'd grown older, the urge to see what lay beyond my borders had grown stronger. I linger now on the precipice of adulthood, almost a mare and no longer quite a child.
Having seen my reflection, I know that I have inherited my mother's beauty as well as her coloring. My mane cascades down my smooth golden neck, an ombre of navy to pale white that matches my swishing tail. I'll never be tall, but I've finally begun to lose the gawkiness of my youth and show the promise of feminine curves.
My Arthas has told me to meet the King of Sylva at the center of the kingdom. I have every intention of doing so, though his warning that "that devil Morty" will want me for himself stills rings alarmingly in my ears. I'm old enough to know what that means, especially as the autumn days grow shorter, but I am determined to wait for Arthas.
He is waiting for me as well, I am sure, though I had not thought to get any sort of promise from him. It's never occurred to me - and still does not - that there might be others. I am preoccupied by the way the shadows shifting around me, and I raise my head to call out. Better to be with a devil than alone in the darkness of unfamiliar woods.
This is the first time I have ever left my homeland.
I've never needed to, not when every whim was readily catered to. Yet as I'd grown older, the urge to see what lay beyond my borders had grown stronger. I linger now on the precipice of adulthood, almost a mare and no longer quite a child.
Having seen my reflection, I know that I have inherited my mother's beauty as well as her coloring. My mane cascades down my smooth golden neck, an ombre of navy to pale white that matches my swishing tail. I'll never be tall, but I've finally begun to lose the gawkiness of my youth and show the promise of feminine curves.
My Arthas has told me to meet the King of Sylva at the center of the kingdom. I have every intention of doing so, though his warning that "that devil Morty" will want me for himself stills rings alarmingly in my ears. I'm old enough to know what that means, especially as the autumn days grow shorter, but I am determined to wait for Arthas.
He is waiting for me as well, I am sure, though I had not thought to get any sort of promise from him. It's never occurred to me - and still does not - that there might be others. I am preoccupied by the way the shadows shifting around me, and I raise my head to call out. Better to be with a devil than alone in the darkness of unfamiliar woods.
