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11-29-2014, 05:32 PM
| Why had he left in the winter? It was cold. It was dark. The going was treacherous on even the best days, and progress was either painstakingly slow or altogether impossible. This little adventure of Kipling's was not off to the most promising start. He was hungry and tired, and he was starting to doubt whether this had been such a great idea after all. It was also very cold. It was the first few winks of sunrise, although Kipling had been traveling for several hours already after a fitful sleep that had only made him more tired. The frigid night drew him forward through a tunnel of trees, dragging him along impatiently towards his unknown destination. He craned his neck uncomfortably to watch the ground underhoof, but despite his best efforts, he slipped and stumbled through the icy layers of petrified leaves and roots. Although he could sense his surroundings lightening up as day broke, the woods' eerie silence felt out of place. Nothing seemed to want to greet this day: No birds singing, no wood mice rustling, no insects buzzing to life. The trees started to thin around Kipling as he approached a little clearing. He paused just inside the entrance, closing his eyes to relish the feeling of unfiltered sunlight blanketing his back. He had been picking his way through unbroken dense woods for several days, and the stronger light here was almost intoxicating. With his eyes closed, he could picture himself grazing one of the lush valleys he had frequented in warmer months, chasing butterflies and drinking from sun-warmed streams. He exhaled wistfully and squeezed his eyes shut tighter, clinging to the fading illusion of Tallsun. When he could not pretend any longer, Kipling opened his eyes and returned to the disappointment of reality. He was alone: a gawky, unsure adolescent colt. His chestnut winter coat was streaked with dark, wet lines where ice and snow had melted onto him, oddly mirroring the white brindling that painted his barrel. Each breath escaped in a cloud of vapor from his nostrils, and the wind had lashed long tears from the inner corners of his eyes. Burrs and twigs matted his mane and tail, but he did not have the energy to pick out the tangles with his horn as his dam had taught him. He sighed and moved half-heartedly to the center of the clearing, where he began to graze on the choicest grass that had benefited from the stronger sun's rays. Surely I'll find them soon... Right? |
OOC: Open to anyone - I'm still getting a feel for him & what I want him to do.
