The mare moves at his pace with much ease, in fact she seems to never need a rest. She does not stop to graze nor drink and still she moves as fluidly as the moment they had left the forest. At times a mischievious eye is turned to the dark stallion as if beckoning for him to hurry up. The buttermilk buckskin rarely required sustenance. It would take a year or so for her to start to thin out, a decade for her ribs to start to show and perhaps fifty more for the mare to appear tragically emancipated. Illinois holds this little fact about herself in silence...it's not like he asked anyway?
Chocolate lanterns looking to Syden's coyly from time to time as they move swiftly over terra firma. Her nails seem to barely make contact with the land. Ever alert ears flickering to and fro if she should need to find her wings rapidly. Along with the feathered appendages, the mare seemed to retain the flightiness of her kindred creatures, taking to the air in the bat of a lash with very little effort.
When they had passed though the outline of the Gates territory, she can feel a change in the atmosphere. It was fresher, warmer. Limbs take to move ahead of Syden without much consideration to him as her curiousity got the better of her. She had spent nearly a century wandering the land and sky of Beqanna so depsite her affections for the stallion, the smaller mare had absolutely zero qualms about following her head. He may have imprinted on her but she still retained a wildness about her and perhaps he would sense this, or perhaps not but he would eventually. "Stunning-" her only word in response the beauty she witnesses. She stops so he can near before boldly grabbing a hank of his mane and giving it a good tug before taking to her heels, bits of earth flying, she never even seemed to tire from their journey. Peals of her mare-ish laughter following behind in her wake. The spirited woman draws her limbs beneath her and slowly pivoted to meet the stag's gaze with a rather playful smile. She seemed to be fueled by the sunshine and fresh air, bewitching in the dappled slats of sunlight that keyholed through the limbs of the trees that hung over them.
illinois
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