03-18-2020, 11:55 PM
Though she was born in the meadow, she finds she likes the forest best.
Because she can spring through the undergrowth and the birds sing there and sometimes she catches sight of the herd of deer that calls the forest home. And, though it pains her when they flee from her, they cannot fault them for their nature. Even with the soft, velvet antlers that have erupted from her head and the way each of her hooves split in two and she is more their size than she is the size of a horse. Still, she frightens them and she can never keep up when they hurl themselves through the forest. Because she is so much like them but she will never be one of them.
But she loves them all the same.
It delights her just to know that they are there.
It is because of this that she spends most of her time here. There is some small part of her that hopes against hope that one day they will see that she is like them. More like them sometimes than she is like the horses, she thinks.
She is growing steadily bigger. More mature. Still only a yearling but so much older now than she has ever been before. She doesn’t know where her mother and father have gone, but she thinks it’s okay. Because she’s old enough to be on her own and she’ll probably find them again someday. She has no reason to, but she believes that all things turn out as they should in the end.
The limbs are still coltish, but they are strong. They carry her easy through the forest. Skittering and dancing and leaping. Grinning all the while.
Until she comes upon a figure. And the sight of him arrests all of the laughter bubbling in her throat. Because he is made of shadow, darkness forced into the shape of a horse, and the eyes are an electric red. There is a flurry of discomfort at the very center of her but it does not deter her. Because she does not yet know how to be afraid.
So she grins sweetly as she ventures closer, her head tilted funnily. “Are you all right?” she asks, the voice just as velvet as her antlers. “You look so sad,” she observes with a frown, drifting closer still, “did you lose someone?”
Because she can spring through the undergrowth and the birds sing there and sometimes she catches sight of the herd of deer that calls the forest home. And, though it pains her when they flee from her, they cannot fault them for their nature. Even with the soft, velvet antlers that have erupted from her head and the way each of her hooves split in two and she is more their size than she is the size of a horse. Still, she frightens them and she can never keep up when they hurl themselves through the forest. Because she is so much like them but she will never be one of them.
But she loves them all the same.
It delights her just to know that they are there.
It is because of this that she spends most of her time here. There is some small part of her that hopes against hope that one day they will see that she is like them. More like them sometimes than she is like the horses, she thinks.
She is growing steadily bigger. More mature. Still only a yearling but so much older now than she has ever been before. She doesn’t know where her mother and father have gone, but she thinks it’s okay. Because she’s old enough to be on her own and she’ll probably find them again someday. She has no reason to, but she believes that all things turn out as they should in the end.
The limbs are still coltish, but they are strong. They carry her easy through the forest. Skittering and dancing and leaping. Grinning all the while.
Until she comes upon a figure. And the sight of him arrests all of the laughter bubbling in her throat. Because he is made of shadow, darkness forced into the shape of a horse, and the eyes are an electric red. There is a flurry of discomfort at the very center of her but it does not deter her. Because she does not yet know how to be afraid.
So she grins sweetly as she ventures closer, her head tilted funnily. “Are you all right?” she asks, the voice just as velvet as her antlers. “You look so sad,” she observes with a frown, drifting closer still, “did you lose someone?”
careful, child, light the fuse and get away 'cause happiness throws a shower of sparks
Dear,
