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07-30-2015, 06:41 PM
B O O T S The lumpy little snow puppy is excited that the two unicorns, his creators and masters, do not delay for long in following him. They are not far behind, trailing along the stream of misshapen paw prints that he leaves in the snow for them, a bread crumb trail to some unknown—and undecided—destination. Through the white valley he runs, leaping and bounding with the happy and ungraceful steps of any puppy made of snow (if you have, in fact, seen one before). It is quite a peculiar sight, but surely endearing if one doesn’t dwell for long on the mysteries and enigmas of such a phenomenon, and simply enjoys it for what it is. Close as they had been to some of the large bases of the Basin’s mountains, he sticks near to their familiarity, leading his masters—his parents, his benefactors—in the pale, stretching shadow of their magnificence. Boots’ soft, icy jaws open periodically throughout their little run, releasing barks of wind, ice, and snow, a breathy sound that howls at a higher, more friendly pitch than its blizzardy counterparts—a sound that cannot belong to any young canine of flesh of bone. It echos through the thin patch of mountain trees that he weaves them through, dusk growing near and splotchy beneath the needles of their branches. After a short while they return again into the open, Boots tumbling forward into a stop as the great expanse of the Basin’s unfreezing lake opens up before them. He pants in happiness, and the stone of his disproportionate eyes would be shining if it were possible. Leaping back and playing in between the legs of his unicorns, he rolls onto his back, belly exposed for loves, and his snowy tail wagging. @[Mortuus Nox] |
