09-11-2018, 07:09 AM
Winter was truly a beautiful season, but every time it entered the woods, stripping the trees of their leaves and color, he was forced back into hiding, not wanting to be seen against the white snowy backdrop thanks to the golden coloring os his coat. He had learned the ways of the Forest, how to blend in, but that didn't mean it was always easy. Take this winter, for instance; he'd slipped up, allowing himself to be spotted by a big cat because he hadn't bothered trying to hide when he smelled danger was near.
He'd gotten away without serious harm, save for a series of three claw marks down his left flank. Other than the ones he already bore, the stallion didn't have any serious injuries, something he was grateful for since the series of scars he had been quite painful to acquire in the first place. There were times when, as he walked, feeling the twinge of pain in his lower legs, that he would suddenly recall how he'd gotten those; the raging forest fire, the flooding of his home. There were also times when he had nightmares about it, and he could recall the sensation of feeling the flames lick at his hooves so clearly he would think everything else had been a dream and he was still trapped in Taiga's fire.
But then he would trip over something or have his senses jarred, reminding him that Taiga had already recovered from it's destruction and was once again home to a number of horses, many of whom he'd never met. But that was explainable; he'd spent the last two years in solitude after all. Why would he get to know any new faces, when all his time was spent hiding out here in the forest?
The morning passed in somber silence as usual, the stallion taking some time to dig through the snow for grass in his usual grazing spot before he got tired and moved along to the river. The grass tasted the same in both places, but he did not want to dwindle one food supply down so far that if the other suddenly dried up and died under the snow, he wouldn't have anything to eat. Yes, the grass was bland and had no taste, but it was better than not getting anything in his belly.
When the stallion reached the river that wound through the forest trees like a snake, he lowered his head and sniffed at the ice by the bank. The ice was tough, for sure, but Aten was strong too. What also helped was that, near the bank, the ice didn't have as much water to freeze over as it did in the river's center. That made breaking the ice with one's hoof much easier.
Finding a good spot, Aten lifted his hoof and began to paw at the ice along the bank. It took some time, but eventually, he heard the resounding sound of his hoof smashing the ice into bits, revealing the icy cold water that lay underneath. Lowering his head, ignoring the chill of the frigid water on his lips, Aten took a number of sips to quench his thirst, paying no mind to the water that now covered his bearded chin and front of his hooves where the water had splashed up.
@[Ilma] Not a huge opener, but there's little to do in the Forest right now so I kept it simple.
He'd gotten away without serious harm, save for a series of three claw marks down his left flank. Other than the ones he already bore, the stallion didn't have any serious injuries, something he was grateful for since the series of scars he had been quite painful to acquire in the first place. There were times when, as he walked, feeling the twinge of pain in his lower legs, that he would suddenly recall how he'd gotten those; the raging forest fire, the flooding of his home. There were also times when he had nightmares about it, and he could recall the sensation of feeling the flames lick at his hooves so clearly he would think everything else had been a dream and he was still trapped in Taiga's fire.
But then he would trip over something or have his senses jarred, reminding him that Taiga had already recovered from it's destruction and was once again home to a number of horses, many of whom he'd never met. But that was explainable; he'd spent the last two years in solitude after all. Why would he get to know any new faces, when all his time was spent hiding out here in the forest?
The morning passed in somber silence as usual, the stallion taking some time to dig through the snow for grass in his usual grazing spot before he got tired and moved along to the river. The grass tasted the same in both places, but he did not want to dwindle one food supply down so far that if the other suddenly dried up and died under the snow, he wouldn't have anything to eat. Yes, the grass was bland and had no taste, but it was better than not getting anything in his belly.
When the stallion reached the river that wound through the forest trees like a snake, he lowered his head and sniffed at the ice by the bank. The ice was tough, for sure, but Aten was strong too. What also helped was that, near the bank, the ice didn't have as much water to freeze over as it did in the river's center. That made breaking the ice with one's hoof much easier.
Finding a good spot, Aten lifted his hoof and began to paw at the ice along the bank. It took some time, but eventually, he heard the resounding sound of his hoof smashing the ice into bits, revealing the icy cold water that lay underneath. Lowering his head, ignoring the chill of the frigid water on his lips, Aten took a number of sips to quench his thirst, paying no mind to the water that now covered his bearded chin and front of his hooves where the water had splashed up.
@[Ilma] Not a huge opener, but there's little to do in the Forest right now so I kept it simple.