She dozed comfortably in the river, eyes half-lidded and focused on the sun-sparkles dancing atop the river. Birdsong drifts to her ears above the currents every so often and sometimes, she opens her eyes long enough to look for the source of the chirps and trills. Her eyes track their trajectories across the sky and not without a tiny hint of envy, because she feels deep down that she ought to be up there with them.
Beaked and feather and flying! Alas, she is simple and grounded and usually content enough with that until moments like this that are warm and dreamy and make her bones heavy with laziness and sleep. The river moves all around her in agitated little swirls and small comments voiced in rushing water. It makes her smile, dreamily and sleepily as her eyes begin to close again, so easily lulled by the environment.
Until she is pulled from her daze by a soft voice and that too, makes her smile as her eyes pop open and blink repeatedly against the light and the vision on the bank. “Are you real?” she asks, not trying to be rude and ignore the words that woke her but she thinks she might be sleeping still because nothing that amazing and beautiful should be so interested in her. “Or am I still dreaming?”
It must be a dream still, she decides while smiling. Just look at those amazing birds gliding above the river! Their dance is enchanting as are their colors and design, natural and unnatural both in that they are birds and behave as such but even she can see the grass and flowers that make up their feathers and wings. “Those are amazing!” she murmurs, still dream-hazed and quiet.
“Did you make them?” because somehow that seems to be the most logical answer given the vines and flowers that decorate the mare. She is reminded of her mother and the stories she told about how she could shift into a plant. It’s not the same thing but close enough and finally, it is this that makes Moonlet stir and wade towards the beautiful vision on the bank.
@[Isilya] ❤️