Something in you is yearning,
for where all the wild things went,

There was something that had drawn her this far out. It was cold and she had never really explored this far out. Something had always kept her going south to the warmer climates. But this time she felt like seeing what else was out there. So she headed north, setting out with her little broken compass in tow, exploring what else this Helovia had to offer for her. Yet as she explored by her own means, something came along the wind that perked the dappled doe’s interest. Cloven hooves raced across the icy tundra, gripping onto the rocks that peeked through the different parts of the land helped her follow the call that many others had. She could see them from her approach. What appeared to be a moose, a slobbering tearful mess that ached Aelfwine’s heartstrings upon further inspection. Slowing to a stop, she noticed all the others that had gathered, not missing the stallion’s comment before one of the most strangest creatures she had ever seen took her attention briefly.

It was so strange to her, being surrounded by so many creatures. Had they been here all along? All these different types of animals? Had she just been avoiding them? She took note of the colt with wings and a horn, trying their best to soothe the tiny moose. Then her emerald orbs traced the features of a filly that looked more like a creature born between a deer and an equine than she had ever seen. Yet, she admired the little filly in her unique beauty that she found it hard to tear her gaze away. But it was taken easily by a beautiful purple mare for mere moments before moving along to the many other faces. She didn’t get much closer, instead just simply observing for a few moments.

She waited for a few seconds before lifting her heavy antlered head to look upon the crowd of mostly smaller beasts, (granted she wasn’t exactly the tallest mare around, but definitely not the shortest) and offered a kind smile to them all. “Perhaps we should stay vigilant incase his mother returns?” Her voice was soft on the wind, a question for all those around that perhaps if they moved from the area where the calf was lost, that the mother wouldn’t be able to find him in the lost direction. It was an idea, a question on the wind, and she waited patiently to see what perhaps would happen next.

"Talk."

a daisy in the cracks —

amidst a world made of cement.

aelfwine