Her head feels lighter, unburdened by the weight of antlers, and Asena could swear she is faster for it. The world around her is a palette of muted winter shades, cool blue-greys and deep navy blacks, blurred together with the speed of her pace. In the dim light of dawn, the Meadow is quiet and nearly empty. She comes to a halt near the center of the grassy plain, pale clouds of exertion streaming past her lips.
Thirsty, the pale haired girl follows the scent of water to a creek deep enough to flow even in the winter, and begins to drink. She does so slowly, for the water is like ice in her belly. Steam rises faintly from her purple coat, and Asena knows that soon she will be colder than she can stand. Living in Ischia means that her coat has never changed from sleek summer shortness, and it does naught to keep her warm on this early winter morning.
The wind picks up, pulling at the white mane that falls along the length of her spine, and she wraps her tail across her back in an effort to keep warm. She’ll rest for a while, catch her breath. Then, when she is either rested enough or cold enough, she’ll start back toward Ischia – or perhaps somewhere else that’s warm. The world is her oyster, after all. She need only crack it wide enough that she finds a pearl worth keeping. Stepping away from the water, Asena looks around for a tree or brush as a windbreak, and instead finds that she is not the only horse awake in the Meadow at this early hour.
@[Affirmative]
A S E N A
her hair was long, her foot was light,
and her eyes were wild