Delicate things are pretty - cute, even,
but you are not delicate.
You are wild and lewd and unpredictable.
You are breathtaking.
You are beautiful.
I've never had a home before. Not really. Oh, I've called the forest, the meadow, home, but it's really just not the same. From everything I have seen, there is just nothing that can quite compare to a truly safe place to lay your head at night, a place you can always come back to.
That's what I want, and from what I can tell, the field seems to be the place to go to get it.
It's been a little while coming, this trip. But I've been unaccountably nervous. Normally, I'm not, but this is big, different. Special. And what if no one likes me? What if no one wants me? I mean, I don't think I am especially objectionable, but I am a bit odd. A bit unusual.
You see, I have a third eye. Yep, you saw that right. A third eye, big and bold as you please. It's special, unique, but not everyone seems to think of it that way. But what else is a girl to do? I can't spend the rest of my life withering away in the forest.
So, the field it is. Autumn is fully upon us, the leaves turning vibrant shades of rust and ochre, the grasses drying and releasing their seeds. The field is much the same, a golden green expanse of hock-tickling grass dotted with various equines of all colors. And I am there among them, another figure amongst many, a lovely young woman of marbled gold and white and black with only one small oddity about her. One small, almost inconsequential extra feature. One that, hopefully, wouldn't put too many off.
Giohde