He stands, surrounded by large trees with widened ebony trunks. The harsh smell of pine erupts his nostrils, burning at the scent. Trees previously shed of their summer growth in preparation for winter, begin to blossom again. Soft efforts of sun rays attempt to weasel through the vast amount of tree branches, creating a contrast of heavy doses of light and darkness.
Dalten is alone, as he always is. Well, perhaps that isn’t so true. Lately there had been an odd trend in socializing. Despite where he went, there was always another equine excited for his company. Of course, he was not. In fact, he had begun to master the art of ending conversations. Maybe if he had been blessed with the company of a male, he might of not been so eager to run. But, alas, whether it was the hormonal desperation or God himself mocking, Dalten kept finding himself surrounded by women.
A nightmare he only hopes to have waken from, and worry not again.
He has (for once) meandered from the openness of the meadow in search for a more quiet scene. Aside from the soft chirp of homecoming snow birds he hears not a sound. Rain from the previous night had moistened the earth to a muddy surface, leaving residual puddles every which way.
His stride is long, and calm. It has been awhile since he felt at ease. He is pulled instantly to the slowly running creek that eventually leads to a more flourishing river. It is small, minimal, with hardly any depth at all. However, it ends in a massive strong current, full of colour and drops deep enough to engulf an equine whole.
Dalten is much like the creek. What lies beyond sight is worth the hike.
@[Karaugh]
