|
It is hauntingly quiet: just how you like it. You will not be the one to break the silence, you think, as you travel deeper into the wood. No, you stay on the deer paths; your lithe form slips past the reach of gnarled branches and leaves the brush undisturbed. It is also dark here, even for the season. Very little light is able to penetrate the thick canopy above you, much less any significant amount of snow. You like to imagine that you look like a ghost in the weak light of this dark forest, with your dove-white form a striking reverse silhouette against the black trees. Indulging your vanity, you add a smooth bounce to your traveling trot—ah, yes, you must be practically floating. It is just a shame that there is no one here to appreciate it.
With your ego purring like a self-satisfied cat, you venture further into the forest, continuing to play out your little fantasy. Oh, if you were a ghost, the things you could do! You could float, and fly, and whisper in the ears of mortals. You could eavesdrop to your heart’s content, and fill your brain with stories and secrets. You could taunt, and you could tempt, with no repercussions—you’re already dead! A soft chuckle escapes your black velvet muzzle at the thought, startling you back to reality. Your ears pin, and your trot slows to a halt as you glance around warily. These thoughts of ghosts, perhaps, are not the best for such dark woods. Not that you’re frightened, no. You should just be alert.
It is a timely decision. You notice that the trees are thinning, and soon you understand why. Nothing can grow in the shadow of the giant that towers above you. But it is not the old tree that holds your attention, it’s the sparkle. The old fir’s roots embrace the edge of a pool. It has partially frozen over, but a stray beam of light penetrates the melted surface to kiss the most gorgeous red stones at the bottom. Your eyes widen greedily, and you venture cautiously to the treeline to investigate. It is beautiful, but the pool is still--too still. You may want the prize in the basin, but for now, caution takes over. There is an aura of enchantment in this place, and you are unsure of what will happen should you approach the water.
A sudden snapping of branches draws your attention, and your head turns sharply towards the sound, teeth bared. To your chagrin, it is only a hare. Its snow-white winter coat matches your own, which irritates you. How original, you think, channeling your embarrassment into hostility towards the creature. You are tempted to burst out of the trees and chase it off—but wait! The animal is hopping lazily into the clearing. Eagerly, you watch through narrowed eyes. Perhaps the wretched thing will trigger some hidden curse, and you’ll have the pleasure of watching. Goodness, a small voice in the back of your head notes, you’re feeling unusually vicious today, aren’t you, Sheba? Never mind that. You lean forward expectantly…
…And nothing happens. The hare crosses the clearing, sips at the pool, and turns to disappear back into the brush. You fly out of the trees after it, as if you mean to chase it into the woods, but it is gone. You snort indignantly after it, tossing your horn in the general direction of its exit for good measure, but the pool has your attention once again. Gloatingly, you sashay over to the rim and peer down. Your own reflection stares back at you, and as urgently as you desire to investigate the bounty at the bottom, you take a moment to preen—you always have time for that.
How lovely your braids look today, Sheba. The only thing that would make them lovelier still would be some of these red stones woven into those milky plaits…
@[Voodoo]
| |
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
[P] Who's the fairest of them all? {Voodoo}
