Spring was fading into a fast summer. The breeze across the field was a welcome relief from the staunch heat of the Desert she now called home. In fact, has it been nearly 3 years now since her return? Since she once again found herself grazing in this meeting-meadow and found herself once again at home in the sandy expanse. To say she hadn't planned it would have been the truth. Pevensie would have gone where ever the fates had decided she could go, and in her heart she had thought the evening prior about ending up in the Dale once more. Alas, it was not to be. But she can't complain, her sandy home has given her friends and safety, a purpose once more. That is what has brought her back here today - to see if she cannot help another soul in need of shelter to find some solace.
The buckskin is grazing underneath a lone tree when movement in the corner of her eye draws her thoughts away from the sweet, tender grass. A grey mare, lithe and slight, dancing in the distance. Slowly she raises her head, snorting curiously, watching wisely. She is a stark contrast to the darkness about her, lit so beautifully in the moonlight. Pevensie sighs jealously, for the only part of her that reflects the moon are her dazzling white scars (the bullet-hole in her left ear, the slash across her chest where a spear had once embedded itself). Both these parts did no favours in accentuating her pretty face.
Shaking the idea from her mind, she draws herself back to the task at present. The white mare, yes, that is why she is here. Following at a jog after her, the buckskin pony crosses the stream. She also notices a stallion approaching, but that doesn't bother her. Maybe he needs a home too, and if not, she will at least give the pretty young mare a choice (a luxury she herself has often lacked).
Pevensie approaches the mare with a gentle nod. She smiles at the stallion too, not wanting to leave him in the lurch. "Hello, I'm Pevensie. If you're looking for a home, I came to solve the problem. You see, I come from the Deserts, a kingdom full of friendly, tolerant faces. I think, looking at your figure, it would suit you far better than it suits me. My ancestors lived in the tundras of Europe and I can't say that my body will ever fully accept the climate I've chosen it to endure,"
She grins, leaving the floor open to replies.
The buckskin is grazing underneath a lone tree when movement in the corner of her eye draws her thoughts away from the sweet, tender grass. A grey mare, lithe and slight, dancing in the distance. Slowly she raises her head, snorting curiously, watching wisely. She is a stark contrast to the darkness about her, lit so beautifully in the moonlight. Pevensie sighs jealously, for the only part of her that reflects the moon are her dazzling white scars (the bullet-hole in her left ear, the slash across her chest where a spear had once embedded itself). Both these parts did no favours in accentuating her pretty face.
Shaking the idea from her mind, she draws herself back to the task at present. The white mare, yes, that is why she is here. Following at a jog after her, the buckskin pony crosses the stream. She also notices a stallion approaching, but that doesn't bother her. Maybe he needs a home too, and if not, she will at least give the pretty young mare a choice (a luxury she herself has often lacked).
Pevensie approaches the mare with a gentle nod. She smiles at the stallion too, not wanting to leave him in the lurch. "Hello, I'm Pevensie. If you're looking for a home, I came to solve the problem. You see, I come from the Deserts, a kingdom full of friendly, tolerant faces. I think, looking at your figure, it would suit you far better than it suits me. My ancestors lived in the tundras of Europe and I can't say that my body will ever fully accept the climate I've chosen it to endure,"
She grins, leaving the floor open to replies.