08-01-2019, 09:14 PM
Heat radiates outward from the stone beneath her small hooves despite the late hour of the evening. The odd geometric shapes of the basalt have captured her attention for the better part of a quarter hour now. Just now, she stands splaylegged, attempting to keep her balance as she moves across the stones without touching the same one twice. Her wings stretch out from her sides for assistance in this task, but they are thin and barely grown things, still more down than feather. The moon is only a few nights from fullness and provides good light for the filly’s game.
Celina hums happily to herself as she plays, and when she tumbles to the ground (which she often does) she always stands quickly after, shaking away her bumps and bruises with a toss of her upright navy mane.
The girl had told her Mother that she was spending the night with Pteron in his seaside grotto, which she knows is too far north for Mama to travel on foot (and on foot was the only way to travel in Taiga). She hadn’t told Pteron this though, and her older brother is off doing whatever it is that adolescent boys do and totally unaware that his youngest sibling is wandering ever deeper into Hyaline.
She’s wanted to come here since she first saw the mountains. They loomed tall and impossibly beautiful against the first light of dawn. Celina had stared – transfixed – until her mother had to pull her away. The girl has thought of them frequently in the time since, and tonight she is finally wily enough to trick her caretakers and finally bold enough to have the courage to even try.
Dusk had fallen as the white filly made her way into the mountains, her coat a bright beacon against the deep greenery and blue shadows. She’d followed a grey and brown bird and its three chicks for some time, but they'd eventually roosted for the night, leaving Celina on her own. The girl had envied them the warmth of their mother and their fluffy cloaks as she climbed higher and the temperature fell lower. It was the warmth that had first drawn her to the basalt columns, irresistable in the cool night air. Playing a game with their pattern had come next, and as she reaches the edge of the stone she raises her head curiously.
She considers crossing back over the stones for a fifth time. Could she do it faster than last time? With less falls?
The idea is tempting, but there is a dry tickle in her throat that reminds her she has not had a drink in several hours and has exerted herself quite a bit. Pricking her silver ears in hopes of the sound of running water, Celina takes in a long breath but finds only the scent of stone and earth and plants and horse. Horse? She turns in a half circle, trying to find the source of the last scent that she has only just noticed.
“Hello?” She says, the smallest of quivers in her voice. “Hello?”
Celina hums happily to herself as she plays, and when she tumbles to the ground (which she often does) she always stands quickly after, shaking away her bumps and bruises with a toss of her upright navy mane.
The girl had told her Mother that she was spending the night with Pteron in his seaside grotto, which she knows is too far north for Mama to travel on foot (and on foot was the only way to travel in Taiga). She hadn’t told Pteron this though, and her older brother is off doing whatever it is that adolescent boys do and totally unaware that his youngest sibling is wandering ever deeper into Hyaline.
She’s wanted to come here since she first saw the mountains. They loomed tall and impossibly beautiful against the first light of dawn. Celina had stared – transfixed – until her mother had to pull her away. The girl has thought of them frequently in the time since, and tonight she is finally wily enough to trick her caretakers and finally bold enough to have the courage to even try.
Dusk had fallen as the white filly made her way into the mountains, her coat a bright beacon against the deep greenery and blue shadows. She’d followed a grey and brown bird and its three chicks for some time, but they'd eventually roosted for the night, leaving Celina on her own. The girl had envied them the warmth of their mother and their fluffy cloaks as she climbed higher and the temperature fell lower. It was the warmth that had first drawn her to the basalt columns, irresistable in the cool night air. Playing a game with their pattern had come next, and as she reaches the edge of the stone she raises her head curiously.
She considers crossing back over the stones for a fifth time. Could she do it faster than last time? With less falls?
The idea is tempting, but there is a dry tickle in her throat that reminds her she has not had a drink in several hours and has exerted herself quite a bit. Pricking her silver ears in hopes of the sound of running water, Celina takes in a long breath but finds only the scent of stone and earth and plants and horse. Horse? She turns in a half circle, trying to find the source of the last scent that she has only just noticed.
“Hello?” She says, the smallest of quivers in her voice. “Hello?”