You're really only very small, Fynnegan.

[Elfa]

And to see you're really only very small,
And life flows on within you and without you.
“Far too deep...”
In so many ways, this world is just not made for her (or her for the world — depending on your perspective). Not the other horses that tower over her like looming, hoofy giants; nor the felled tree that blocks her path, covered higher still with glistening, new snow. So high it is, that she cannot even peek over it, no matter how hard she cranes her neck!

But the winter?
Why, winter is made for her least of all.

Winter is knee high drifts to most. If only! Shoulder high to her!
Winter is particularly hungry fangies, and she'll be damned if she can run away in all this! Run away at all!

“Oh!” She stomps her little hoof on the ground, or tries, really. But the hoof is snugly held by the firm snow around her sunken leg — ruins the gesture a bit. So she tosses her shaggy head back, her thick white mane loosing its dusting of snow; it will do, along with the forceful snort of distinct displeasure. Sometimes, when you are small, you figure out how to make your feelings clear no matter the obstacles. Otherwise, nobody might notice at all! “Well, could have guessed,” It can almost never be a jolly little stroll to the Meadow. Or the Field, as it were. Realistically speaking, it could be a cat-fangie... or a dog one. Now that is perspective. And so Elfa, with much humming and hawing, wobbles backwards against the suck of the snow and the incompatibility of her little legs.

You learn to navigate with patience when you are small. Rarely, in the snow, is the first path the right one.

She finds another well-trodden avenue, just a fork in the forest back. This one thankfully clear, and dappled with soft, early morning sunlight. Around her, the snow catches it and glitters and high above icicles (menacing as they are!) twinkle like odd, frozen falling stars. No, winter is not made for her — it is cumbersome, and it makes her excessively fluffy in the worst of ways — but it has its undeniable charms.

When the little grullo mare finally moves from the trees and into the Field (well packed down by the big ones), she is nearly prancing. When you are small, and you are patient, you learn to take the world in stride.

But she had not considered, when she finally arrived... what exactly she would find. For girls like her, options are few. There are some... dimensional requirements, for it to really work.

Elfa.

Testing her style.. she may not be so... cutesy? but I'm trying to see if I can't maybe do something different with her :] pardon while we figure it out! She may be completely different next reply haha. I play serious ponies, so this is not my thing.

[Fynnegan]

♦ Fynnegan ♦

I can't say I am a fan of winter. Sure it is pretty, and I am well equipped for the cold but I much prefer ease of travel over a pretty sight. Many times practicality is what makes me so different from my tall friends. They have the luxury of being impractical, while I cannot. I have to put thought behind every decision I have to be aware, since my back only at their bellies (most the time) I work twice as hard. So winter only adds to my work. The tall ones don't seem to cares much but if I were tall- I wouldn't care much either.

I decided the meadow would be safe, so many horses they probably had the area mostly packed down and easily passable. The way there from Dale was a little tricky, but I had finally reached the field, which was along the way. I heard a noise off the way, frustration- female...but the source was off in distance. I turned to walk towards it, always curious. but the sound had stopped. I decided to shrug off this curiosity and continue, or else I would never reach the meadow. I continued on, watching the others mingle. Most the time it didn't bother me being the only small horse this side of the mountains, but sometimes it did.

My feet moved forward, doing as I told, though my mind was else where. What would it be like to have other short horses all around. What if tall horses were the oddity? My mind is constantly chasing down some rabbit hole. Next thing I knew, THUD, I ran smack into something. I shook my head and looked to see what I had hit--expecting a tree. I must say, I did a double take indeed. My deep voice escaped before my mind was able to catch it. "You're small!....ooh, um I mean..I'm sorry, I was off in a daydream. Excuse my frankness. i do hate when others point out my size and here I am doing it to you! Such a shame. I am Fynnegan, but most call me Fynn. I must say I didn't think there were any others like me in Beqanna!"

Ok, ok. I may be quite the talker when I get going but she is small! like about my size. and that is quite interesting! and shocking! and just such a turn of events. maybe I am supposed to make a space where being small isn't odd, but normal. I must say I am curious. Curious indeed.

» death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily «

ooc: i have no clue if the field is between the dale and the meadow but W/E I make my own rules >.<