we are the memory of the smell of smoke; any

[Elk]

The thick flakes seemed to have collected in the soft grooves and valleys of her body. The dark length of her tail lifts against her legs and ever so softly fans across the pale skin of the moon glow snow. She is unaware that she has been spotted by the milk and honey stallion though his scent would soon mingle with the freshness of quiet snow fall.

The sounds of his voice reach her between the patter of snowflakes and she turns to look at him with large dark eyes, her shoulder shaking off the sheen of frost unconsciously. Elk listens as he inquires to accompanying her side in the darkness of a winter's night. She is not sure how to answer and she is not sure if company is all he meant to provide. Dark eyes are large, moist, and watching. She manages to give a small shrug after a few moments when he does not leave "Sure." The word is low and quiet as it is nearly lost among the snowflakes.

She begins to move on with long black stained limbs. The man can take her side now so long as he steps over the growing snow fall. Elk is nervous but she remains steady on her course towards the tree line. "What's your name?" The mahogany mare asks after a bit. The silence of the winter's night was intoxicating and it fed her soul with a nourishing beauty rarely witnessed much in Beqanna.