[private] gold cage; hostage to my feelings; tamlin

[Celina]

Her breathing is heavy when she lands in the shallow snow of the dry creekbed. The earth here is flat and predictable, which the tired mare needs. She’d found this empty channel some months ago, and marveled at the strangeness of the thing. IT was like one of the canyons of Loess, but of earth alone. A few miles upstream the beavers who’d so industrially dammed the creek are enjoying their new lake, and Celina enjoys the certainty of a good landing even in a forest place. It is important to have a good landing place anywhere you mean to fly, she’s been taught. She remains still for some time, allowing the fast beat of her heart to slow along with her breathing. When her breath clouds the snowy air in large and even clouds she finally moves forward again, keeping to trail of the creek until she arrives at the River itself. Pulling her feathered wings tightly to her sides, the white mare makes her way down the edge of the water. Her nostrils, lined with dozens of delicate silver scales, flare rapidly, searching for her father’s scent. She’s been looking since she left Nerine, and had found nothing in the Field or the Forest. This is her last best chance, yet Celina finds nothing after several hours of searching. The green-eyed mare glances up at the swiftly darkening sky, her long-jawed mouth slightly agape. Each of her sharp teeth are illuminated in turn by the bright yellow green glow of the fireflies that circle her head and neck. Soon it will be night, and there is no use searching in darkness. For all her use of scent, she is no hound to track what she cannot see or hear. She looks around and spies a thicket that would make a good resting place, then wades into the stream to begin luring in her dinner. Her face is expressionless as she stares down into the water. Even were she to smile, it would have been gruesome, for her mouth is far too wide. Celina is no beauty, but as the blinking fireflies work in unnatural unison to draw in a catfish as long as her foreleg, it is clear she possesses other, more useful attributes for survival. She is hauling the catfish up the bank when she hears the sound of another creature. Celina freezes, dinner in her mouth and preventing speech, and casts about with her eyes and flicking ears to find the source of the noise. @[Squirt] celina i'm that bad type, make-your-mama-sad type make-your-girlfriend-mad type, might-seduce-your-dad type