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As I did for about seventy-five percent of my day, I was flying. It was a good time to fly, spring- unlike winter, it wasn't too cold that your wings iced over immediately and you would fall to the ground until only meters above the ground when your wings softened enough you could move them. My wings had normally been quite good at repelling snow and ice, as well as water, due to generations of evolution in Svikruch, but it had also been spectacularly cold in Frostfall, for better or for the worse. For the worse, I thought privately, although who knew what the gods were thinking?
Ah well. Winter was gone. So was my leadership of a herdland, as was Leander's. Didn't the leaders realize, I wonder, it would only be natural for us to team up? Honestly? Surely they must also know we are friends, at least. I hadn't exactly been polite to Jackal or Kri, I admit, something I needed to work on. Eh, doesn't matter.
I exhaled quietly, turning my eyes to the ground to look for a good landing spot. Well, no need to worry- there was a giant field below me. Two blue ribbons tied together and flowed into one river, moving idyllic and smooth, but not slow. The water glistened and shone in the sunlight, sparkled with faint transparency so one could see through to the bottom. It was rippling around something obstructing it.
A horse. I tilted my wings downward, widening my expanse as I came down, with one stroke of my wing to stop me from coming down too quick. I moved forward, my wings counter-stroking to keep me balance, to land on my hind legs before dropping to all fours. With a practiced move, I shook my head, tossing the tangled black mane back and dropping my head to sip at the water opposite the stallion.
"Good day, eh?" I comment as I lift my head, water dripping from my muzzle in beads reflecting the some placid but nevertheless wild landscape of the Thistle Meadow.
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