10-30-2021, 08:46 AM
Today she has chosen to wear a spectrum of saxifrage, the delicate pink and white blossoms blooming between her rounded snow-leopard ears, and scattered through the thick fur along her ruff. The true flowers are long buried beneath the heavy autumn snow, but patience and practice have allowed her to recreate near-identical facsimiles through the magic of her shifting. Myrna has already shown her flowers to Malik, but her older brother had not been nearly as impressed by them as their mother always is.
He had told her to stop showing off, but Myrna did not understand, and he did not have the patience to explain it to her. Instead, he’d flown away on eagle’s wings that he knows she’s not big enough to use yet, and left the young cub to wander the slopes of her mountainous home.
She has spent some time stalking a pale purple hare, but it evades her in the end, skittering across a patch of open stone with speed and agility that even her padded feet and long limbs could not match. She pants heavily, and when her lungs no longer heave with exertion, and she begins to make her way down toward the lake on exertion-warmed muscles. The snow is deep, and though it does grow shallower as she arrives beside the water, the leopard still leaves deep prints.
The paw prints turn to half-moons when she arrives at the lake, donning her most familiar shape as she looks across the expanse of frozen water. She has kept the pinkest of the saxifrage, and they are bright against her near-white mane. They are the only real color on the six month old filly. The rest of her is hardly darker than the snow, a pale flaxen palomino with a pair of budding opalescent horns.
The sound of snow crunching underfoot draws her attention, and the filly turns her blue-eyed head to see her mother moving closer, and smiles happily.
@Mazikeen
He had told her to stop showing off, but Myrna did not understand, and he did not have the patience to explain it to her. Instead, he’d flown away on eagle’s wings that he knows she’s not big enough to use yet, and left the young cub to wander the slopes of her mountainous home.
She has spent some time stalking a pale purple hare, but it evades her in the end, skittering across a patch of open stone with speed and agility that even her padded feet and long limbs could not match. She pants heavily, and when her lungs no longer heave with exertion, and she begins to make her way down toward the lake on exertion-warmed muscles. The snow is deep, and though it does grow shallower as she arrives beside the water, the leopard still leaves deep prints.
The paw prints turn to half-moons when she arrives at the lake, donning her most familiar shape as she looks across the expanse of frozen water. She has kept the pinkest of the saxifrage, and they are bright against her near-white mane. They are the only real color on the six month old filly. The rest of her is hardly darker than the snow, a pale flaxen palomino with a pair of budding opalescent horns.
The sound of snow crunching underfoot draws her attention, and the filly turns her blue-eyed head to see her mother moving closer, and smiles happily.
@Mazikeen