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07-03-2015, 09:58 PM
W I C K A The world was frozen in shades of whites, blues and greys. Trees stood bare, creaking and straining under the weight of the snow that covered them. All was quiet. It was in this winter wonderland that a figure moved swiftly through the trees, without sound. It was a lady, one that seemed to be made of snow, matching in colour and even in that bright, reflective glow. She carried on through the trees, leaving only faint tracks to be followed. But soon they too will be snowed over. She was sweating, and her flanks were heaving, but still she kept on trotting, determined to find something, anything. Finally she slowed, and came to a stop by a stream. She could hear it running, but a thin layer of ice coated the top. She gazed around puzzled. Never had she known a winter like this, never has she been so cold. Steam rose from her coat as she stood perfectly still, and when it seemed that she had become invisible, swallowed by the snow, she moved again. She carried on upstream, not bothering to be quiet as dead sticks and leaves under the snow crunched under her petite hooves. After a while she came to a part in the stream where a little waterfall was formed, and there was no ice. She lowered a half pink, half black muzzle and drank, but only a little, as the water was freezing. Her frigid form took off at a brisk trot once more, half of her face a dark stain in the endless white of the world. Once again she stopped, her horn as glossy as any glacier might have been, and pale blue pools scanned the landscape. She decided to wait there, next to the stream. And if no one came, or nothing happened, she would wait till the next day. She would wait for the next month, year, decade. She would wait. Maybe not always in the same spot, but she will wait still. Speech |
