Steam rises from her coat in wisps and is swallowed by the fog and the darkness of the hollow in which she stands. She's landed roughly here, fifty yards above the forest floor, and her left wing smarts where it had slammed against the back of the hollow. Flight is difficult between the trees - landing in them is even harder.
The wood at the edge of the hollow is rough and jagged, but farther back is smooth by years of occupation and being ground down by hooves. This is Pteron's nest, but his scent is faint. Weaker than it had been the last time she had checked earlier that morning, but stronger than it will be when she returns in the dawn to be certain he has no returned home during the night.
Darkness is slipping into Taiga - there will be no moon on this autumn night. Lepis knows that she must leave soon or be trapped here till morning. It is not safe to fly in the dark and her own nest is nearly a half mile away.
Her nest.
Just hers.
The crickets begin to sing, and the paint navy-haired mare pulls her wings more tightly to her body. Perhaps Pteron will come home during the night, she reasons. No need to travel in the darkness, back to the hollow at the base of the redwood where her own nest lies. Celina and Elio are visiting friends, and there is no one there to share it with. Better to stay here, she lets herself believe as she drifts off.
Dawn comes, and with it the reminder that her fortnight grows ever shorter. Lepis descends from the hollow in the tree and drifts toward a nearby pond to take a drink, landing with a small splash of her striped hooves into the water.
The wood at the edge of the hollow is rough and jagged, but farther back is smooth by years of occupation and being ground down by hooves. This is Pteron's nest, but his scent is faint. Weaker than it had been the last time she had checked earlier that morning, but stronger than it will be when she returns in the dawn to be certain he has no returned home during the night.
Darkness is slipping into Taiga - there will be no moon on this autumn night. Lepis knows that she must leave soon or be trapped here till morning. It is not safe to fly in the dark and her own nest is nearly a half mile away.
Her nest.
Just hers.
The crickets begin to sing, and the paint navy-haired mare pulls her wings more tightly to her body. Perhaps Pteron will come home during the night, she reasons. No need to travel in the darkness, back to the hollow at the base of the redwood where her own nest lies. Celina and Elio are visiting friends, and there is no one there to share it with. Better to stay here, she lets herself believe as she drifts off.
Dawn comes, and with it the reminder that her fortnight grows ever shorter. Lepis descends from the hollow in the tree and drifts toward a nearby pond to take a drink, landing with a small splash of her striped hooves into the water.
