The night has a music all its own.
The crickets chirping in tune, the gentle, underlying whisper of the grass, two feet high, as tall as it needed to be to conceal the smaller predators in the animal kingdom. The occasional rattling sound of a cicada in the distance, clutching itself to a tree. A silver gleam shone down on it all without opposition, bathing it all in a soft light. The occasional shadow of a bat crossed it, slashing the light. It would attempt to disappear into the night, but the heavens were so unclouded that the glitter of stars revealed it. It was nature at it's finest, at a state the rest of the world could only dream of and allegedly, ironically, kill for.
Against a thin-coated yearling, the air would have bitten, poisoning blood with its icy touch.
But the mare who roamed these fields aimlessly tonight, the one that interrupted the quiet music with the rhythm of her hooves, did not fear it. In fact, she embraced it, knowing that the biting temperature would drive the majority away. She calmly assessed the open field around her as the grass around her brushed against her legs, tangling the long feathers that floated about her hooves. She regarded it all with indifference, uncaring to all of it. Rationally speaking, there was nothing to react to, so she kept walking, waiting for morning to come, for the dawn to break the skies with a light that did not feel as warm as it appeared.
Although her mind was free of thought, she was not devoid of intelligence. She was empty of emotion, but not of a past. She had already forgotten it, as dwelling on previous events was a waste of time. She didn't mope, didn't stop to reconsider the sister she had left behind. She was not a worrier, she was a planner- carefully plotting while chaos reigned around her. If the world fell to pieces, she would watch it if that was the rational choice.
She could smell the males who had been there recently. Highly analytical, she was not impressed with any of them, though she acknowledged easily that it was most certainly not their duty to impress her. She determined they came here often, and had resolved to wait.
She walked to keep her joints from locking into place, weaving patterns into the grass while she waited for another to arrive, a keen glance in her eye.
(Fail post is fail)