----------------tell me: who do i run to?
Balancing on his hind legs, Pteron braces his knees against the thick bark of the trunk and stretches for the red apple that is just out of reach. He cannot reach it, and returns all four hooves to the earth as he stares up at it with a scowl. Then, with a sigh of exasperation as much at himself as at the apple, he knocks it from the tree with a well-aimed smack from his bicolored wings. It’s gone in a few quick bites, autumn sweet and delicious. A drink would go well with it, but he’s far from the creeks that crisscross the heart of the Meadow. He can smell water deeper in the trees, and eyes the Forest with wary olive eyes.
Pteron had gotten completely lost in there once before, when a few-hour jaunt looking for Aegean turned into a few months by the time he’d found the path out. Pteron has no desire for such a twisting of time again, so he ignores the allure of the water and his parched throat, and heads instead back into the more populated Meadow and the low-running creeks. Pteron’s wings are folded close to his sides as he passes near to other horses, and the tall grasses flick against the white and blue-green feathers as well as his striped legs and twitching blue tail. He is about ankle deep in the water when he feels the prickle of awareness at the back of his spine. It’s the sensation that often comes of being watched, but Pteron does little more than flick his blue-tipped ears toward the other as he continues to drink.
He’s aware of them, his posture indicates, but not certain enough that it’s worth interrupting his drink for. That he’s not gone invisible suggests that he is up for company, though he does not expect whomever this might be to be aware of his habit of literally disappearing when he does not want to be found.
@[rosebay]
-- pteron --