[open] tell them I was a light; any

[Golde]

It is a bright spring morning as she leaves her mother’s side for the final time.

Well, not forever. But longer than she has ever gone before.

Golde is a woman grown now, though still more slight and delicate than any of her brothers or sisters before her. As she puts one hoof in front of the other over the spring-young shoots of green grass and dewey clover, her steps become more sure as she goes. Her inky black coat glitters when the shafts of sunlight pierce through the canopy overhead. Her small ears swivel to catch and consume every bit of birdsong she can. There is a warm surge of peace rising within her like high tide. Almost as if the kingdom is pushing her gently on her path, letting her go to find her own path ahead. Leaving the Dale - the place she has called home since she was born - is not the impossible task she anticipated. 

She thinks with a little bit of luck and a hustle in her step, she could make the Meadow by high noon.

Eventually, Golde crosses a narrow, winding stream, enjoying the cool rush against her ankles. On the other bank is a thick patch of shamrocks. She moves closer to rest amongst them. It is then she sees the movement. She thinks it must be a trick of the light, but as she blinks, she sees the truth in it. Tiny figures are moving from within the flowers. They cast a soft gold light across the patch of greenery as they race from their floral homes.

She’s heard of such wonderful oddities, of course, but never seen anything like it for herself. The young woman smiles at such magic. Surely, it must bring good tidings for her own journey. One of the creatures seems to notice her and races over. “Why hello!” It loops under her neck, over her shoulder, and then her under her belly in response before hovering at eye level. And then, in a puff of rainbow cloud, it is gone. Gold dust trails from the air and settles down on her. A wonder, she thinks, and so many more to come.

[Ruhr]

The sun is warm on his dappled back and Ruhr is lost in a dream.

He is back in Stratos as it had once been, before their world had crashed into this one. The moon had been close, so much larger than the distant one here, and he’d been bathed in Her silvery light.

She was saying something to him, something important.

He wakes, unable to recall Her words.

Ruhr sighs and shakes his feathered head. The motion tousles the colorful strands of his mane and tail, blending the yellow hairs with the dusky blue, the pale orange with the deepest red. The feathers in his mane and along his neck are a matching hue, as are those of his wings. The latter are revealed as he stretches his wings, rolling his shoulders and yawning widely before he folds them back in with languid grace.

He’d flown this morning, and the memory of the adrenaline is enough to infuse him with warmth again, and bring a smile to his handsome face. It had been a while since he was in the sky, and he had missed it. Ruhr is as slender as a stork, and each bit of him had been crafted for a life in the air. He was not meant for the earth, his flight had reminded him.

He is of the sky, and the Moon.

Still smiling faintly, he meets the gaze of an unfamiliar mare, and nods his feathered head to her in a polite greeting.

@Golde