The tall brutes cloven clefts dug softly into the mossy earth as he explored the darkened forest. Branches and twigs tugged at his pale, over grown locks. With some steps the surrounding tree limbs would clutch his mane as it trickled through their leaves, Pulling the ivory hair from his bronze bodice, leaving it to decorate the kindling. Shafts of light peaked between the only holes it could in the canopy, leaving streaks of gold on his bronze hide.
Tilney wondered where the birds were; He could not hear their song here. Was it too dark for them? The gloom too saddening to dorm in? He could understand, He wasnt sure he liked this setting much either. The look of effervescence in the light, the way it dappled though was something he much admired about this place.
But with every step, more trees came in to sight. There was nothing else it seemed in this dark place. No water, no places of interest. Just trees.
And so he wondered how he would ever get out, if every stick, stone and tree looked the same?

A blackened maw turned back in the direction the had come, a soft snorting sigh escaped his nostrils. Would he make it home to the basin tonight? He was beginning to fear that there was little chance of making it home before sundown, and he didnt want to be left sightless in this dim, dingy woodland.
Finally, he heard the soft chirping of a finch. He knew there had to be some kind of life here. But then there was another noise; the sharp snap of a stick under a hoof.
His nose shot in the direction of the spooky sound and he saw he was not alone. A coloured mare stood, looking just as lost as he. He watcher her closely, silently, between their barrier; a thick group of trees. She spoke, but from his distance he could not make out a single word.
"Uh, good afternoon!" Tilney chanted past the trees. His pace had quickened and soon he had scooted around their barrier, stopping only a few feet before the golden fae. A wide smile was stuck right across his cheerful countenance; he was glad to have found someone else here.

His verdent gaze took a short moment to observe the stranger. She had a pelt of many colours; gold, black, grey, and she owned vibrant blue eyes. Standing at least a hand shorter then he and with an elegant gold horn she was quite a striking young doe. The chain that hung from her horn sparked his interest, and it was a feature of hers that he eyed the most.
The stag bowed his head, his old and beaten lantern creaked and swung from his mahogany crown as he quietly acknowledged the stranger before him. "This is not an ideal place to be lost" the gentle stallion uttered. He knew he was lost but what about her; did she know a way out?