11-06-2016, 08:37 PM
The winter air conjurers thoughts of frigid wastelands, cracked lips and frozen hearts. The black stallion ventures to the meadow to appease the low rumble in his stomach, pangs that were sharp and ceaseless till the heavy male finds himself standing among the last bits of vegetation. Steely pools eye the bark of a few trees that stood naked and unafraid. If the temperatures were to drop further, he may have to resort to the dry tree skin for nourishment.
Black as night and shaggy from ear to hoof, he moves methodically over the frozen ground. Here and there, he would drop his skull to tug at the last few bits of grass. They taste cold and brittle against his tongue, the sharp teeth chewing slowly as he savors the last bit of his meal. Cold wind digs into the thickness of his inky mane, jostling and tangling it in a flirtatious caress. Lior finds a clear space to break the white covering of snow, nosing away with lips and heated air. This winter would prove to be harsh but he welcomes with calm (almost relaxed) features, his only challenge made by his presence in the nearly empty meadow.
Feathered limbs move Lior to where a small clump of conifer trees stood like a green sanctuary against the cold. Gray eyes find comfort in the way the fat snowflakes fall peacefully, sleepily to cover where his hooves once made their impression. The smell of pine sap and dry needles turn the edges of his lips upward in a slight smile as he finds peace in the solitude of being alone. Small tufts of frozen air roll from his nostrils like a sleeping dragon among his riches.
Black as night and shaggy from ear to hoof, he moves methodically over the frozen ground. Here and there, he would drop his skull to tug at the last few bits of grass. They taste cold and brittle against his tongue, the sharp teeth chewing slowly as he savors the last bit of his meal. Cold wind digs into the thickness of his inky mane, jostling and tangling it in a flirtatious caress. Lior finds a clear space to break the white covering of snow, nosing away with lips and heated air. This winter would prove to be harsh but he welcomes with calm (almost relaxed) features, his only challenge made by his presence in the nearly empty meadow.
Feathered limbs move Lior to where a small clump of conifer trees stood like a green sanctuary against the cold. Gray eyes find comfort in the way the fat snowflakes fall peacefully, sleepily to cover where his hooves once made their impression. The smell of pine sap and dry needles turn the edges of his lips upward in a slight smile as he finds peace in the solitude of being alone. Small tufts of frozen air roll from his nostrils like a sleeping dragon among his riches.