What in the world could make a brown-eyed girl turn blue? GALE

[Gale]

Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free   The thunderstorm had kept him in the Meadow overnight. Gale had not expected the storm, accustomed as he is to the winter-bound storms of his island home, and rather than brave the lightning-filled sky, the brindle pegasus had chosen to take shelter in a thicket of sassafras. He’d woken quite early to the unfamiliar song of meadowlarks and blackbirds, their voices soft and melodic. Accustomed to the chatter of parakeets, Gale finds it almost pleasant, and enjoys the start of his leisurely morning with a large breakfast of the tall green grass that blankets the Meadow. It is not quite as good as the grazing at home, but it is a novelty. Those are uncommon for him, Gale thinks as he looks up at the cloudless blue sky. Perhaps he should fix that. With  a shake of his neck, one that ripples the length of his pale mane from crest to mid-back, Gale decides to walk home. He’s never done so before, preferring the sky as all winged creatures do, but the way seems clear enough. Head west until he finds the ocean, head north along until find the peak of Tephra, and from there home is but a heartbeat away. Unsure what he will find on his way, Gale feels rather excited. He crosses the River, avoids the deepest parts of Forest, winds his way through the foothills of Loess, and heads into the red forest of Sylva. He has only ever seen the fiery canopy from overhead, and thought it pretty enough. From below though, the trees create an endless golden-red ceiling, one the he stares up at in appreciation. The sound of hooves brings his attention back to earth, where a blue mare stands only a few paces ahead of him. “I’m only passing through,” he tells her, just as he had told the Loessian patrol who had met him near the kingdom’s border. “Just on my way back to Islandres; I don’t plan to linger!” His tone is friendly, but sincere, and his blue eyes meet hers as he nods a greeting that he hopes is appropriately polite for a Sylvan border guard. @[Ionia]