The fields are alive with cricket sonnets and frog choirs, even with the sudden chill of Orangemoon creeping in night by night. The sky is clear and the moon is hiding away or at least very thin tonight, the stars are out and brightly twinkling in the sea of black above. Trails of flickering stars blanket the deep onyx until it falls behind the serrated tops of the far off snowy peaks. When the painted girl crested the hill her companion spies something in the distance, right on cue she hears the commotion of ground shifting under the patter of feet.
Phrixus calls out with his low baritone croak and lands in the top of a nearby pine, leaning down and staring intently with his frozen blue eyes. Tangere remains still where she is, studying the images, the vibrations of thought coming in from her bird's calculative observations.
It is a mare, fallen or lying, or maybe just standing awkwardly – Tang cannot tell for sure through second-hand flashes of the scene – and really though, the thing making her heart spark, is the companion of this glow-horned mare. Phrixus calls out again, drawing the attention to himself just before swooping down to find the sabino's sturdy withers. He looks so large, and he is, perched on her back. He's easily eagle size, far larger than a the common raven of a different, less interesting world.
“
Hel-...” She sucks in a breath as she comes close enough, around the corner and through the trees, to see the mare and her wendigo friend. She shudders somewhere underneath her thickening silver and white coat and her big pearly bird bristles, eyeing the creature. “
Hello there...” Is it friendly? She wonders, stopping where she stands, twenty or so feet off from where the strangers are. “
Do you need a healer..?” Her voice is a soft whisper, matching the lull of the soft night breeze, smooth and light.
Tangere
& Phrixus
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