[mature] I tried to sell my soul last night; any

[Ilma]

A little breeze goes a long way

A white dove lands silently in the meadow. It moves it's feet over the ground to try and trick worms into thinking it is raining; then, the bird would eat them. A white mare lands less silent. She is larger, for one, and the impact on the ground is perhaps graceful as she trots off the momentum, but nevertheless, really not that silent. A soft rush of wind against feathers is all it takes to warn the dove, though perhaps combined with a rather large shadow. Ilma spreads her wings for the break, then drops to the ground to walk the last bit. She shakes her fur - in the early autumn or late summer (who is to distinguish the seasons by a day, when it's still warm and the summer sun lingers, but the first leaves have yellowed out?), she had taken it upon herself to return to the meadow. As she'd told the little lamb before, it must be pretty in each season, and Ilma isn't one to miss a thing about it. Only after rearranging both fur and feather, she blinks and looks around, taking in the air that surrounds her. "Oh!" she exclaims before she can help herself. She's been very rude - the grey stallion isn't too far from her, but she's turned her back to him. She turns to give him a soft nicker as a greeting. She sure hadn't seen him there - his position had been aligned with a tree not too far away, and from the sky, he had seemed hidden to her. Not that he was, now. Clearly he hadn't even been near the tree's shadow. She can only hope she hasn't disturbed him too much, even though she fears that she might have. She hesitates a moment, but steps closer. "Sorry to drop in on you like that," she apologizes. One can only try to mend things, can't she?