I have begun to grow familiar with the autumn woods, for I do not venture beyond their borders. Old habits are hard to break, and just as I had kept myself to Loess, I now keep myself to Sylva. It would be hard to gather information on the kingdom if I were not here, I tell myself, and i repeat all the more firmly whenever the urge to slip north begins.
Today I fight a particularly difficult bout of homesickness, and so when I see the dappled stallion standing in the shadows, I at first assume it is a hallucination. I had imagined his voice a moment earlier, had I not? Yet there was no one to be seen. He says my name, and it definitely sounds like a real voice. I hesitate still, my ears pulled back warily into the nightfall of my mane. A gust of chilling wind brings his scent, and surely a hallucination would not be so detailed?
I glance to the left at the right and one glance behind me, trying to be certain that we have not been spotted. Only when sure of our solitude do I join him in the shadowy copse. It's warmer in here, the wind blocked by the heavy foliage. It's also darker, almost dusk-like despite the afternoon sun blazing overhead.
"Your majesty," I say, fighting to keep the elated grin from my face and instead presenting the picture of an elegant and appropriate greeting for a king. I cannot hold it for long though, and soon I rush headlong toward him. He is quite warm, and I wonder how long he might have been here waiting for me.
For me!
The idea is thrilling, and as I stand with my chest pressed against his and my neck wrapped across his withers, I think to myself that I must be the very luckiest girl alive. I might have to deal with the ill temper of the reisdent king, but it is not so terrible. Not when I have Arthas, perfect Arthas, waiting for me at the end of it all.
"What're you doing here?!" I ask, carefully smoothing out the lay of his grey mane. "Have you come to take me home already?" He had said he would return for me when I was grown, hadn't he? Aren't I grown? Old enough to bear a child, though just barely. I had avoided all stallions this season, even the dark eyed boys who smiled so nicely as they made their way through the red and gold kingdom. I am at the very brink of adulthood, physically a woman grown if still childish at heart.
"I've missed you," I add, rather boldly. I am glad he cannot see my face, tucked as it is along the smooth slope of spine.
Today I fight a particularly difficult bout of homesickness, and so when I see the dappled stallion standing in the shadows, I at first assume it is a hallucination. I had imagined his voice a moment earlier, had I not? Yet there was no one to be seen. He says my name, and it definitely sounds like a real voice. I hesitate still, my ears pulled back warily into the nightfall of my mane. A gust of chilling wind brings his scent, and surely a hallucination would not be so detailed?
I glance to the left at the right and one glance behind me, trying to be certain that we have not been spotted. Only when sure of our solitude do I join him in the shadowy copse. It's warmer in here, the wind blocked by the heavy foliage. It's also darker, almost dusk-like despite the afternoon sun blazing overhead.
"Your majesty," I say, fighting to keep the elated grin from my face and instead presenting the picture of an elegant and appropriate greeting for a king. I cannot hold it for long though, and soon I rush headlong toward him. He is quite warm, and I wonder how long he might have been here waiting for me.
For me!
The idea is thrilling, and as I stand with my chest pressed against his and my neck wrapped across his withers, I think to myself that I must be the very luckiest girl alive. I might have to deal with the ill temper of the reisdent king, but it is not so terrible. Not when I have Arthas, perfect Arthas, waiting for me at the end of it all.
"What're you doing here?!" I ask, carefully smoothing out the lay of his grey mane. "Have you come to take me home already?" He had said he would return for me when I was grown, hadn't he? Aren't I grown? Old enough to bear a child, though just barely. I had avoided all stallions this season, even the dark eyed boys who smiled so nicely as they made their way through the red and gold kingdom. I am at the very brink of adulthood, physically a woman grown if still childish at heart.
"I've missed you," I add, rather boldly. I am glad he cannot see my face, tucked as it is along the smooth slope of spine.
