04-09-2019, 10:55 AM
A rugged-looking, dark filly wanders into an open field, so much to be unknown. She’s old enough to know she had a past, but young enough that one might argue that she didn’t leave much behind in the circumstances. But what are the circumstances, you ask? She is unsure. She knows that her name must be Niphredil, for she is called to by that name in her dreams. There is a constant echo of this simple knowing in her subconscious. She looks down at her feet, covered in mud and sod--signs of early scarring indicative of trauma. She feels as though she should fear what’s ahead, but how to know when what came before is unknown.
She breathes in the sweet, fresh aroma of the openness through flared nostrils. She snorts, tossing her head lightly and her brown eyes widen as she searches for what she is to look for. Is the answer in this field, or shall she pick up her hooves and carry herself onward to a place far away. Any answers, past or present must lie ahead on the horizon.
She nickers softly, for not any reason known to her. Relying on instinct alone, perhaps Niphredil is summoning her future.
She breathes in the sweet, fresh aroma of the openness through flared nostrils. She snorts, tossing her head lightly and her brown eyes widen as she searches for what she is to look for. Is the answer in this field, or shall she pick up her hooves and carry herself onward to a place far away. Any answers, past or present must lie ahead on the horizon.
She nickers softly, for not any reason known to her. Relying on instinct alone, perhaps Niphredil is summoning her future.