I have been here before many a time in a sense, if a shadow could be asked what it sees as it follows beneath me, but I claim a familiarity with it nonetheless. I know the bend of the river and the sweetness of its waters, the climb of the rocks and the prolific bounty of plants in its fields. Even in the chill of the yawning days before the freeze, I find it a peaceful place and a comfort to be be in these surroundings but I feel my own internal defenses hardening for the fast approaching everfrost, just as the plants who are strong enough turn to hibernation. Already my ruddy coat has thickened some, blurring the quality of my markings yet easily staving off the chill of the lackadaisical breeze that blows across these yellowed grasses, puppeteering  their dead stalks to its unsympathetic will. I watch the heavy steam of my breath condense in the air and flow wistfully way to nothing, purposefully exhaling long and steady to prolong the effect for my amusement before returning to my task of digging roots to satisfy the dimwitted hunger brewing in my gut.

Yet, as I bend my neck toward the earth I am distracted by the scent of something that did not belong in this air.  Smoke. I pause at this, perplexed as I consider its source, thinking my senses mistaken or somehow fooled for it was very faint, as if barely brought into life. It haunted the air all around, drifting downwind from the breeze. I had only to look upwind to draw upon the sight of another of my winged kind not far away, a luminous form bannered in white and silver and flourished in gold. It were almost surreal, this sight of a radiant mare and the phantom brew of smoke, but I know the truth of things and knew the look of flesh and bone when it was near, even if the smell of the air attempted to deceive me. No pale sliver of superstition could cower me into believing I had discovered a revenant or other such haunt however their appearance might inspire such thoughts.

Curious, I chose to approach the luminary one and I bow my head lightly in greeting, noting the vast menagerie and complexity of her markings. Perhaps it is the smell of smoke and the intensity of her coloration but the mare reminds me of fire, not unlike myself. But where I was like the glow of the flame in the darkness, she was the gleam of daylight between clouds.   

" You carry a strange scent about you." I say a bit absently, caught in my studies. " You smell of smoke when there is none. Why?"It does not occur to me to think of it as an odd thing to ask, rather I think it ordinary to express myself as so.


"Talking"
@Aurelia
OOC: Hope you don't mind!