Winter. It is crisp as she enters the field, deep snow on the ground. She has left the Tundra, but as the seasons change, you could hardly tell. It is mostly empty before her, open. Against the endless white, her black mane and tail stand out. Her buckskin pelt as melted into a white buttermilk, almost as pure as the snow surrounding her. It is only her jet black outline that distinguishes her from her surroundings, singling her own for the others dwelling in the meadow to find.
She finds a secluded spot, lies down to rest in the snow. At first, it is cold. Then as the snow packs in tight around her, continuing to fall hard and fast, it becomes an insulating blanket. Nobody can see her tattoos now, nor her scars. She smiles, glad to be hidden away from the rest of the world, happy with the comfort of anonymity and invisibility as the night begins to fall.
Pevensie wakes in the heart of the darkness. The snow has stopped now, the night sky above is clear and blue. From her snow-bed she rises, standing on all fours and shaking herself free of the white powder. She grunts, looking east toward her desert home. Time to return, her kingdom will wonder where she has been.
She starts the long trek reluctantly, old bones creaking and tired, sore with cold. She doesn't get far when she decides to stop by a stream, lowering her lips to suck in the silky wealth of the water. The little mare flicks her ears back and forth, looking for some distraction to delay her journey. She isn't ready to return to being a Queen, not yet. She looks north again, pondering a trip to the Field, wondering if she might perhaps make a friend to take home with her.
The old mare misses having a friend.
@[devin]
She finds a secluded spot, lies down to rest in the snow. At first, it is cold. Then as the snow packs in tight around her, continuing to fall hard and fast, it becomes an insulating blanket. Nobody can see her tattoos now, nor her scars. She smiles, glad to be hidden away from the rest of the world, happy with the comfort of anonymity and invisibility as the night begins to fall.
Pevensie wakes in the heart of the darkness. The snow has stopped now, the night sky above is clear and blue. From her snow-bed she rises, standing on all fours and shaking herself free of the white powder. She grunts, looking east toward her desert home. Time to return, her kingdom will wonder where she has been.
She starts the long trek reluctantly, old bones creaking and tired, sore with cold. She doesn't get far when she decides to stop by a stream, lowering her lips to suck in the silky wealth of the water. The little mare flicks her ears back and forth, looking for some distraction to delay her journey. She isn't ready to return to being a Queen, not yet. She looks north again, pondering a trip to the Field, wondering if she might perhaps make a friend to take home with her.
The old mare misses having a friend.
@[devin]