09-23-2018, 03:58 PM
The open sky is framed on all sides by rough limestone, and I look out at the familiar view with a faint smile. I am thinking of another spring, not the one I currently lounge in, propped up on one side by a worn smooth bit of boulder.
Those thoughts vanish in an instant, and I struggle to my feet. It is difficult to catch my balance with my eyes still smarting and the uneven surface of the hot spring, but by the time I step into the light outside my overhang I am fully recovered.
It had come from somewhere over there, I know, and I am aloft in the time it takes me to leap from the hill and into the sky. There is someone below, a maroon (maybe purple? it is hard for me to tell from this angle) stallion that I do not recognize. I come to the earth a few dozen yards away from him, gliding to a halt without haste.
"Who do I have to thank for that little light show?" I ask, my blue grey eyes flicking briefly - but intently - across the roan horse. He is visually unremarkable but for his color, and his green eyes remind me of the haworthia that are blossoming beside my spring. I meet his gaze with a friendly smile after, breathing in scents that are entirely unfamiliar but for the Field.
@[Woolf]
Those thoughts vanish in an instant, and I struggle to my feet. It is difficult to catch my balance with my eyes still smarting and the uneven surface of the hot spring, but by the time I step into the light outside my overhang I am fully recovered.
It had come from somewhere over there, I know, and I am aloft in the time it takes me to leap from the hill and into the sky. There is someone below, a maroon (maybe purple? it is hard for me to tell from this angle) stallion that I do not recognize. I come to the earth a few dozen yards away from him, gliding to a halt without haste.
"Who do I have to thank for that little light show?" I ask, my blue grey eyes flicking briefly - but intently - across the roan horse. He is visually unremarkable but for his color, and his green eyes remind me of the haworthia that are blossoming beside my spring. I meet his gaze with a friendly smile after, breathing in scents that are entirely unfamiliar but for the Field.
@[Woolf]
