Pollen and her accompaniment of bees have found a place to nestle into for the night. It’s a tiny grass-heavy nook in the meadow that is devoid of flowers but almost tall enough to hide her slight but growing body. She thinks here, they won’t be troubled and sleep will find them easily. It does, as one by one the bees crawl into the honeycombed parts of her pale mane and their buzzing quiets until the peaceful sounds of the night fill her ears.
Pollen has almost forgotten about other sounds and how beautiful they are: cicadas and nightingales, and a band of coyotes trying to sing the moon out of hiding. In the hush, she lowers herself to the grass as if her mother was still there to look after her. Momma is not of course, but she has no reason to be scared of the things that go bump in the night.
Sleep claims her not long after she’s tucked her chin to her knee. Dreams follow, as is their wont to do and she starts to smile in her sleep. Pleasant dreams of roaming across continents and sights she’s never seen, and not once in those dreams, is she without her bees. One or two of them might stir as they too, sleep and dream whatever dreams that bees dream.
Mostly, the yearling and her bees are fast asleep and she smiles on. Pollen is never aware of the dust that blows down off the mountain. The wind finds her, of course, parting the grass and laying a fine layer of that magical dust all over her though it only sticks to her forelock, mane and tail.
Come morning, as she wakes and stretches, her nose wrinkles at the dusty residue that has accumulated in it. By mid morning, purple asters have blossomed in her hair and the bees buzz happily around this new instant and constant food source. Pollen hasn’t seen herself yet, hasn’t looked at her reflection in the water as she hasn’t gone for a drink just yet. When she does, she’ll be pleasantly surprised to find those lovely flowers there.
Perhaps a gift from her dreams?
Or a remnant of the dust that lay over her like a fine shimmery blanket from a mountain and magic she knows nothing about.
ooc: pollen is claiming flowers, thank you!