I yearn for something simpler than this.
The morning sun is heating my back as I exit the icy shadows of my kingdom. Frost still lingers on my fetlocks and white fluff has yet to melt in the middle of my back, but I feel the sun begin to defrost my entire body.
The climate change will take some adjusting, surely.
I am surrounded by a pearly white canvas, hues from the grayscale making up a majority of my landscape with few hunter green pine trees dotting the horizon. The pathway feels long, but it truly isn’t. It will take me all but half an hour to find myself indulged in the shadowy escape of the forest.
Something draws me, perhaps because deep down I will always be better at wandering than staying committed. I have a fear of settling down, this dark gloomy feeling that once I am dedicated, I will never resurface to the social world again. Much like my family, I will follow in the footsteps of leadership and become overrun by diplomats and kingdom priorities. I need to embrace the freedom while I still have no chains attached to my heels.
Even if every day I spend procrastinating means another day of disappointment for my parents.
The sky is a mixture of violent pinks and oranges with a faded shade of yellow dampening the quality. By the time I smell the fresh scent of evergreens and poplar trees, all proof of my snowy oasis has melted off my skin and left a dried crusted memory atop my back.
Here, I don’t blend in as easily. The Tundra consists of my coat colour casted across the land, dark shades of charcoal, grey, and white. Here, I am greeted by a refreshing change of strong pure tones and vibrant highlights. There isn’t much I don’t miss about the scenery here.
Every step I take, I feel a little more at ease. I am like a teenager practicing their addiction of rolling the joint and smelling the unique but soothing scent of my guilty pleasure. Instead, the feeling of moss sinking beneath my weight and the way the leaves crisp together at the slightest breeze is my kryptonite. It hits me like a baseball hits a back catcher’s glove; firm and definite.
It isn’t until I snap back into reality and acknowledge my surroundings that I realize I am accompanied by a pale violet stranger.
She is peculiar in a way I cannot describe yet, like the aura I get from her is quirky and off base. Beautiful, nonetheless in the most simplistic way I can begin to describe… but yes, perhaps different than the amazon warriors I am so used to.
Almost refreshing. Like drinking iced tea for a long time and then suddenly taking a sip of lemonade. The same genre, completely different taste.
A soft nicker rumbles from deep within my throat, a baritone hum escaping into the air with slight vibration tingling at my nostrils. A greeting, simple and appropriate. I will never be a man for words, I am so much better at the traditional way.
