Gull

Staggering away from the tree, you do not notice the mare who hides in the shadows. The smell of damp evergreen masks her scent, and you cannot hear her footfalls over the sound of your own struggle for air. And so she remains concealed as you limp right past her, watching you with keen eyes like the spy she is. Sucking in ragged breaths, you continue your stumble through the wood, favoring your bruised leg. As you walk, tired hooves shuffle through the blanket of moss and dead pine needles, leaving long, dark gashes in the forest floor—telltale signs of your path. You are easy prey.

Exhausted as you are, you nearly miss the dull glint that glimmers ever so slightly beneath the foliage. It is only when you inadvertently kick it aside that you expose the brass disk and cracking leather cord. The sound of your hoof against the metal brings you to an abrupt halt, and you look around, confused. What was that? Casting your eyes about, you look for the source of the noise. No pebble had that hollow ring to it. Sure enough, it doesn’t take long before you identify the culprit: a medallion, half-buried in the dirt, lies about a foot away from your front hooves. Curious, you inch closer. Though it looks much smaller, it reminds you of the crown you once stole. Ears tilt forward slightly at the idea of a trinket. Perhaps it’s not useful, but it’s pretty. Someone might like it.

Leaning down, you squint your eyes to inspect the amulet. It’s not as elaborate as the crown; in fact, it is a rather crudely hewn circle. Someone has punctured a hole in the middle, and through it runs a leather cord, similar to the one that holds the feathers intact in your mane. Squiggly lines have been carved into the metal; other than that, there is no additional decoration. Not being familiar with runes, you assume that the symbols are merely for aesthetics. It’s a simple piece, but it makes no difference to you. Grunting, you reach down to pick it up.

Promptly, a jolt of static bites your tender nose, and you retreat with a sharp cry of pain. Feeling betrayed, you cast a resentful sideways glance at the amulet, debating whether or not to try again. Is this little disc more trouble than it’s worth?

OOC: Sorry for the slow reply; doing my best to catch up now that finals are done!

trouble just grew wings