Strange Place || Any

[Amarantha]

She stands on the precipice of the field, the wind whipping emerald tendrils into her eyes.  A storm brews just south of her current position, it boils over the sea and turns the sapphire skies a murky grey. The ocean beneath to those around it was white-capped and tumultuous. The field, however, was quiet and almost untouched by the difference. 

Rant's journey to the field had been a long one, dragged out over many days and nights. Despite the length of her trek, she is not tired when she reaches her destination. Rather, she is determined. With a whuffling sigh, the olive toned mare steps into the darkening field. The forest hued tendrils of her tail drag through the summer grasses as she walks. Her head is high and her beryl colored eyes are trained on the path before her. 

Almost instantly she takes note on the few equines that lay claim to places within the field. Some slept, others chatted, even more, left with others tainted with the scents of their kingdoms. Her brow creased in thought, how could one decide where to live by mere conversation? She supposed she would find out sooner or later. 

The mare drags to a stop just near the stream that cracked the emerald landscape of the field. She turns her eyes to the scenery around her and takes notice of the few tree copses that linger. They would make mighty fine places to crowd under if the storm choose to approach them. 

She lowers her pale muzzle to the crystalline water beneath and drinks greedily. The sound of the stream had called on a thirst that lay dormant for days. When her thirst is quenched and her throat is no longer dry she relaxes and observes the others.

No two looked the same. Some were bay, black, or white... Others where purple, blue, or (like her) green. With a twisted smile, she draws a thought. 

The dark mare would certainly enjoy it here.