the sound of branches breaking under your feet || any

[Lichen]

They live in the forest —

The deer do. Just as mother and her do. They follow the deer and she spends more time playing with fawns than foals of her own kind. Not that she knows much about what her kind is - she’s as much deer as she is horse. So she plays, follows, and of course, grows. 

Grows lean and slim and not all that much taller. The velvet nubs on her head gain their first growth but itch terribly. She’s taken to rubbing them against this tree and that tree. It’s all to no avail though - the itching is relieved momentarily then starts up again. Sometimes it keeps her up at night long past the time even the deer graze and migrate.

Like tonight. 

She is wide awake and the moon is high and bright from what she can tell through the breaks in the trees. Nutkin dances along beneath the itch of growing antlers on tiny cloven feet. Moonlight manages to find her through these gaps, dappling silver-black fur that is already showing the first faint signs of going gray. 

She moves through shadow and moonlight alike and seems unburdened by the chill in the night. It’s because she doesn’t notice it until she’s run the itchiness of her antlers right out of her mind and the sudden sharp breaths of exertion come from her in recognizable puffs. Only then does she realize that the warmth of summer is coming to a rapid close. That thought alone causes her to draw up short and lean her head to the side in a moment of pondering.

Suddenly the wind howls. Her ears lay back against her head at the sound of it. She doesn’t like the forlorn note to it or the tantrum it throws as it rips the leaves loose from the branches. “That’s not very nice,” she mutters aloud. Not many would try to chide the wind but Nutkin was unusual. “Not nice at all.” because now she has to shake the bits of broken leaf off her fur.

Which she was about to do but then her nostrils fluttered as she picked up on the tail end of a smell that the wind had tried to carry right by her. It didn’t belong there - smelled out of place. She gave a little indignant snort before attempting to creep up on the colt but stepped on a twig let snapped. “Oops!” she mumbled and sought refuge in some blackberry bushes just to the side, trying to blend in.

@[Warden] ❤️