they wanna eat the whole cake; any

[Perfect]

what I gotta do to show these girls that I own them

Winter was a bore. It's gray, and soggy and rather unbecoming in her pale green eye. The dark mare moves through the field with delicate steps, avoiding the wettest parts of the drowned land. On occasion, she would wrinkle her nose, turn away her pretty face, and side step whatever puddle may be in her path.

Long white hair drapes down her neck in a snowy waterfall, glinting dramatically against her black hide. She knows why she is here and does not pretend to otherwise. The young woman manages to find a relatively dry spot in which to pick at a few of the early spring grass shards.

The winter has not touched her lovely skin where others it has ravished. She simply banishes the cold. It was hard to disrupt the perfection. The slim mare figures it would be a matter of time before she is approached and allows it to happen naturally. She was in no rush to hurry home.

perfect