09-11-2016, 02:49 PM
What was he doing? Mother would be so angry when she woke up to find him gone. He knew she worried about him, but he wasn't a newborn anymore. He didn't need to hovered over all the time. He wanted to explore and meet friends. His heart ached for an adventure. Beqanna was huge and he wanted to see every inch of it. Pitch knew he should have asked first, but as all mothers do, his worried too much. She had told him about the Playground, a place were foals could go to meet others their own age. It was protected by magic and guarded by fairies. "No harm could come to a child within its boarders." She would tell him in her thick russian accent; but when he would beg to go she would tell him not until he was a little older. So, technically, if you think about it, the silver grulla colt wasn't disobeying his mother since, after all, he was little older than he was when she told him. That's what Pitch was good at. Finding loop holes and clauses to get him what he wanted.
And so, the silver grulla colt set out. His mother had told him the Playground lay south east from the forest which was the place they currently called home. They didn't always used to live there. She had told him that The Jungle used to be their homeland, but one night before he was born, something happened and Beqanna was flipped around and everything changed. Pitch would have liked to see the way this placed used to look. From what his Mother described, it would have made for one hell of an adventure!
Much to his disappointment, the grulla boy makes it to his destination without much excitement. Once, on the way, he came face to face with a doe both them startling the other, but other than that, it was a rather boring journey. Upon reaching the boarder of the Playground, he pauses, his tiny black rimmed ears pricking forward as he peers through the invisible wall of protection. The ground was snowy, but it seemed like even Mother Nature herself couldn't overwhelm the place. A few seconds pass with Pitch standing as still as a statue, but then suddenly, like an explosion inside his little silver grulla body, he jumps skyward with an excited squeal. As his small hooves touch down he races forward, into the Playground, hopping and skipping, playing in the snow as he bucks his way across the earth. This was the best day of his life!
After a few minutes of hyperactivity, Pitch calms, his pace slows to a bouncy prance, his short bottle brush tail sticking up as his amber eyes score the terrain. There were many other foals here and the silver grulla colt allows his eyes to bounce from group to group. Which one should he join? It's at this point that he spots the black colt way off from all the other babies. He looked to be about Pitches age, (from what he could tell) but he stood all alone next to a big oak tree. Curiously the grulla child makes his way towards him. "Hi!" Pitch exclaims, hardly able to contain his excitement. Like his mothers, the silvery colts voice is laden with a thick russian accent. My name is Pitch, what's yours?" he asks the obsidian colt curiously.
And so, the silver grulla colt set out. His mother had told him the Playground lay south east from the forest which was the place they currently called home. They didn't always used to live there. She had told him that The Jungle used to be their homeland, but one night before he was born, something happened and Beqanna was flipped around and everything changed. Pitch would have liked to see the way this placed used to look. From what his Mother described, it would have made for one hell of an adventure!
Much to his disappointment, the grulla boy makes it to his destination without much excitement. Once, on the way, he came face to face with a doe both them startling the other, but other than that, it was a rather boring journey. Upon reaching the boarder of the Playground, he pauses, his tiny black rimmed ears pricking forward as he peers through the invisible wall of protection. The ground was snowy, but it seemed like even Mother Nature herself couldn't overwhelm the place. A few seconds pass with Pitch standing as still as a statue, but then suddenly, like an explosion inside his little silver grulla body, he jumps skyward with an excited squeal. As his small hooves touch down he races forward, into the Playground, hopping and skipping, playing in the snow as he bucks his way across the earth. This was the best day of his life!
After a few minutes of hyperactivity, Pitch calms, his pace slows to a bouncy prance, his short bottle brush tail sticking up as his amber eyes score the terrain. There were many other foals here and the silver grulla colt allows his eyes to bounce from group to group. Which one should he join? It's at this point that he spots the black colt way off from all the other babies. He looked to be about Pitches age, (from what he could tell) but he stood all alone next to a big oak tree. Curiously the grulla child makes his way towards him. "Hi!" Pitch exclaims, hardly able to contain his excitement. Like his mothers, the silvery colts voice is laden with a thick russian accent. My name is Pitch, what's yours?" he asks the obsidian colt curiously.