12-22-2019, 05:52 PM
She had hoped that from the cover of naked branches, their skeleton fingers thin and gripping, that the meadow would be covered in a blanket of flawless white. Flames of orange and red had coated previously the edges of the meadow in rush pigments that celebrated the coming of autumn and the time of copulation. Elk had taken the refuge between gnarled trunks, thickets of thorns coveting her as the precious creature she was, safe and sound.
With the plunge of temperatures too enticing, the rich bay mare crawls her way towards the meadow to seek grass and cold snow waters. Dark limbs pluck cautiously over exposed roots despite the way her hooves sink into the moss choked grounds. Summer had been plentiful with rainfall and bright sunshowers. The grass grew despite the shift in Beqanna that spoke in dead languages to the deceased...urging them to return to their home lands.
Breathes capture in small frosted clouds, translucent and drifting, Elk is almost envious of its freedom. Dark eyes flicker from the thickness of her lashes to watch how horses paired up and others flitted along aimlessly. Colors, wings, horns...all were so mesmerizing as she admires them all from the treeline. Just a plain mare, nothing remarkable, nothing outlandish. She emerges into the layer of early snow, limbs high, her rich coat gleaming like molten chocolate as she whickers a gentle greeting to an equine not far away. With ears rotated forward, she listens for a reply, taking the liberty of a few more steps.
((she doesnt have html
))
With the plunge of temperatures too enticing, the rich bay mare crawls her way towards the meadow to seek grass and cold snow waters. Dark limbs pluck cautiously over exposed roots despite the way her hooves sink into the moss choked grounds. Summer had been plentiful with rainfall and bright sunshowers. The grass grew despite the shift in Beqanna that spoke in dead languages to the deceased...urging them to return to their home lands.
Breathes capture in small frosted clouds, translucent and drifting, Elk is almost envious of its freedom. Dark eyes flicker from the thickness of her lashes to watch how horses paired up and others flitted along aimlessly. Colors, wings, horns...all were so mesmerizing as she admires them all from the treeline. Just a plain mare, nothing remarkable, nothing outlandish. She emerges into the layer of early snow, limbs high, her rich coat gleaming like molten chocolate as she whickers a gentle greeting to an equine not far away. With ears rotated forward, she listens for a reply, taking the liberty of a few more steps.
((she doesnt have html
))