10-18-2017, 09:14 PM
Tickaani. An old-tongue word for Wolf, typically masculine. However, she figured it suited her fine. Her frame was sturdy, yet full of self assured grace. Her locks flowed to middle length, black as a moonless night. The rest of her faded to blue ash, dappled generously with dark anti-stars. A playful comet streaked from star to nose, as brilliantly white as you could wish. Yes, Wolf suited her fine. She raised her nose to the sweet air of the meadow she had come upon. No tragedy dogged her steps. Indeed, she had traveled these last six summers in relative comfort. Born in the bright heat of summer, she was first raised by a small band comprising of her Dam and two aunts.
She smiled softly at the recollection. Tick missed them yet, but she knew her life would not end in that grassy haven they presided over. She had roamed for cycles, dipping down here and there as opportunity offered warm shelter, food and conversation. There was a stag she may have loved, once, but the Fates saw fit to draw him away. She was jealous then, of the pretty brown lass who caught his eye. Now though, she was thankful. Her days of wandering had only just began then. Now as her stony hooves vanished in deep clover, she knew even more thankfulness. What a sacrifice would that have been? To trade a life of wondrous freedom and venture for one male, and a likely litter of offspring. No, she knew better than to spend life as a contented broodmare. There was sweet water to drink still. Great races to run. Lovers to engage. She was by no means ready to rest.
As a clear, cool breeze brought the rich scent of autumn to her, she inhaled. This was a place Tickaani might find adventure. She sighed a heavy breath, heady with anticipation. There were others here. Her tail thrashed languidly, strands weaving subtle patterns as they fell.
She smiled softly at the recollection. Tick missed them yet, but she knew her life would not end in that grassy haven they presided over. She had roamed for cycles, dipping down here and there as opportunity offered warm shelter, food and conversation. There was a stag she may have loved, once, but the Fates saw fit to draw him away. She was jealous then, of the pretty brown lass who caught his eye. Now though, she was thankful. Her days of wandering had only just began then. Now as her stony hooves vanished in deep clover, she knew even more thankfulness. What a sacrifice would that have been? To trade a life of wondrous freedom and venture for one male, and a likely litter of offspring. No, she knew better than to spend life as a contented broodmare. There was sweet water to drink still. Great races to run. Lovers to engage. She was by no means ready to rest.
As a clear, cool breeze brought the rich scent of autumn to her, she inhaled. This was a place Tickaani might find adventure. She sighed a heavy breath, heady with anticipation. There were others here. Her tail thrashed languidly, strands weaving subtle patterns as they fell.
It would not be long now.