The white of his tail trails and dances in the frothing river, and like the silver water rushing below, the grey and dappled blue of his coat shines darkly in the summer sun, glistening with sweat and splashing. It's the shocking brightness of his face and his legs that stands out, deep red-orange like flames, as if the river is burning.
His blazed face hangs just above the shimmering surface of the water as he crosses the river's widest, shallowest point, leaving the stormy turmoil of the rapids for something more calm, more still. Here, his pale hooves fade and blend into the smooth river rocks when he pause, and small schools of silver fish dart around them, pecking away at the mud and silt and bits of grass that fall away from them. The minnows are quick and wary, moving like starlings in the air, a shadow one moment, lightning the next. They are only attracted to the promise of food, a promise that most quickly find to be empty, but a few peck insistently at his red legs when he falls still, their small mouths firm enough that he can feel the urgent tap of their kisses on his skin. Perhaps the few are rewarded with specks of edible detritus because their efforts double for some invisible reason as he watches.
He is named after them - Dace - and there are some fleeting similarities, their bodies flecked with blue and silver, their fins weakly red, but it is here the likeness ends. At last, he turns away from the ever-hungry, ever-nervous, flitting, fish, turning dark steel-blue eyes to the nearby bank of the river. Trees rustle behind him, whispering sentries guarding the eastern shore from trespassers, and on its western side, the sand and rock blend into a vast meadow, golden and musky with the smell of flowers and sweetgrass baking in the heat. It's intoxicating and suffocating. He sticks to the sharp algae tang of the river where a breeze tumbles above, falling down the sides of the lone mountain rising up in the north. Something about that mountain makes Dace's nose tingle and he snorts into the rushing silence around him as his legs fold, dropping into the cool water, rolling as if to wash his old life away.
A new beginning.
His blazed face hangs just above the shimmering surface of the water as he crosses the river's widest, shallowest point, leaving the stormy turmoil of the rapids for something more calm, more still. Here, his pale hooves fade and blend into the smooth river rocks when he pause, and small schools of silver fish dart around them, pecking away at the mud and silt and bits of grass that fall away from them. The minnows are quick and wary, moving like starlings in the air, a shadow one moment, lightning the next. They are only attracted to the promise of food, a promise that most quickly find to be empty, but a few peck insistently at his red legs when he falls still, their small mouths firm enough that he can feel the urgent tap of their kisses on his skin. Perhaps the few are rewarded with specks of edible detritus because their efforts double for some invisible reason as he watches.
He is named after them - Dace - and there are some fleeting similarities, their bodies flecked with blue and silver, their fins weakly red, but it is here the likeness ends. At last, he turns away from the ever-hungry, ever-nervous, flitting, fish, turning dark steel-blue eyes to the nearby bank of the river. Trees rustle behind him, whispering sentries guarding the eastern shore from trespassers, and on its western side, the sand and rock blend into a vast meadow, golden and musky with the smell of flowers and sweetgrass baking in the heat. It's intoxicating and suffocating. He sticks to the sharp algae tang of the river where a breeze tumbles above, falling down the sides of the lone mountain rising up in the north. Something about that mountain makes Dace's nose tingle and he snorts into the rushing silence around him as his legs fold, dropping into the cool water, rolling as if to wash his old life away.
A new beginning.
@[phaetra] please enjoy whatever this is
