Romantica
The pale green of her eyes seem to burn against the gray skin. Winter is absolutely insulting against her skin as she walks to the meadow for the only reason of needing nourishment. A flat, annoyed line replaces smile that usually flirts upon her tapered lips. The wind was relentless today and Romantica groans whenever it decides to take a nasty lick against her hide.
The meadow is rather empty as it always is in the winter. A few horses lingered for the same reason that Romy does but there is further disappointment in the lack of any grass. Lids fall over the sea green eyes as the granite dappled mare takes a moment to calm herself and accept that winter is truly a selfish bastard. With a shiver in her walk, she moves to return to the sanctuary of thick pine trees that lines the meadow. Perhaps she could dig up some acorns or grass under the blanket of needles.
Limbs pick their way delicately through the ankle deep snow, each footfall that of a practiced ballerina. Romy had no intention of slipping and freezing to death today.
No way, Jose.
it's short. i know. i suck at starters :/