10-09-2021, 08:07 AM
Malik had left while Myrna had been taking a nap, and the filly knows she will be be left to her own devices for much of the day. She contemplates swimming first, but the shape of the seal was too hard to hold onto for longer than a few seconds, and the water of the mountain lake was too cold for the summer-haired filly. She dips one small hoof in again, just to check, and pulls it out with a shiver.
It’s cold like ice, she thinks. Her mother says it flows down from the mountains, where the snow never stops falling. The natural barrier has kept Myrna in Hyaline more than a few times. She still lacks the perseverance - and wings - of those who move in and out of the mountainous kingdom, but she has never felt trapped. Not even now, as she raises her blue-grey eyes to the peaks, where she imagines the wind never stops howling.
A ripple of snow shimmers across the nearest grey cliff as she watches, swept up and carried - glittering - by the wind. Myrna smiles, and thinks it might be nice to be a snowflake, all shimmering and shining and free in the wind.
She didn’t mean to turn herself into a snowflake.
But once she does, she cannot figure out how to turn herself back into a filly. She’s never been something non-sentient before. It is an odd sensation, but as exhilarating as she’d imagined. Carried through the air, she somersaults and tumbles and spins, dancing and twirling about. Sometimes she collides with another snowflake and they flip together for a while until she pirouettes off by herself again.
Lost in the joy of being a snowflake, she doesn’t even notice that she’s floating back up the mountain. Not until she sees Bolder, far below, recognizable only by the colors of his coat, does she even remember she’s Myrna. She opens her mouth to call out a greeting, only to realize she doesn’t have one.
Her shock at this is enough to transfigure her back into a filly, one who falls through the air, then many feet of snow, to land on the mountain some distance away from Bolder, and far from his sight.
“That really hurt,” she says aloud when she clambors out of the snowbank and back onto solid ground. Falling those fifty feet is probably her new record, but it is not one she wants to break. She’d just been broken quite enough for one day, even if her magic has knit her bones back together an instant after they’d shattered.
Shaking out her still-sparse spinal mane, Myrna stamps her hooves in the snow. After a moment, they split, and a few seconds late a small goat (the only shift she’s any good at yet) takes off on Bolder’s trail. The kid arrives just after he speaks, standing at the mouth of the cave with a curious expression on her pale gold face. She trots a little closer to Bolder when she realizes what the dark shape is, and tucks her body between his striped forelegs. He doesn’t seem worried, so Myrna is not worried, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t a little hesitant about a dragon that is not her mother.
It’s cold like ice, she thinks. Her mother says it flows down from the mountains, where the snow never stops falling. The natural barrier has kept Myrna in Hyaline more than a few times. She still lacks the perseverance - and wings - of those who move in and out of the mountainous kingdom, but she has never felt trapped. Not even now, as she raises her blue-grey eyes to the peaks, where she imagines the wind never stops howling.
A ripple of snow shimmers across the nearest grey cliff as she watches, swept up and carried - glittering - by the wind. Myrna smiles, and thinks it might be nice to be a snowflake, all shimmering and shining and free in the wind.
She didn’t mean to turn herself into a snowflake.
But once she does, she cannot figure out how to turn herself back into a filly. She’s never been something non-sentient before. It is an odd sensation, but as exhilarating as she’d imagined. Carried through the air, she somersaults and tumbles and spins, dancing and twirling about. Sometimes she collides with another snowflake and they flip together for a while until she pirouettes off by herself again.
Lost in the joy of being a snowflake, she doesn’t even notice that she’s floating back up the mountain. Not until she sees Bolder, far below, recognizable only by the colors of his coat, does she even remember she’s Myrna. She opens her mouth to call out a greeting, only to realize she doesn’t have one.
Her shock at this is enough to transfigure her back into a filly, one who falls through the air, then many feet of snow, to land on the mountain some distance away from Bolder, and far from his sight.
“That really hurt,” she says aloud when she clambors out of the snowbank and back onto solid ground. Falling those fifty feet is probably her new record, but it is not one she wants to break. She’d just been broken quite enough for one day, even if her magic has knit her bones back together an instant after they’d shattered.
Shaking out her still-sparse spinal mane, Myrna stamps her hooves in the snow. After a moment, they split, and a few seconds late a small goat (the only shift she’s any good at yet) takes off on Bolder’s trail. The kid arrives just after he speaks, standing at the mouth of the cave with a curious expression on her pale gold face. She trots a little closer to Bolder when she realizes what the dark shape is, and tucks her body between his striped forelegs. He doesn’t seem worried, so Myrna is not worried, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t a little hesitant about a dragon that is not her mother.