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11-03-2012, 02:16 AM
The kinda words of the optimistic pegasus fall on deaf ears. The being which Leander hopes to speak with is not an ordinary horse, but one crafted of snow and ice, winter and frost.
It's body glistens in the available sun like dazzling diamonds and its eyes, sets of coal that stare unblinking back at the buckskin boy. Surely it is a relief to find not an intruder upon the land, but a simple snowhorse standing in the heart of the season. It's very probable that creative foals or magical artists crafted this being. Perhaps he is a product of boredom, passion for the frostfall or an aid to loneliness.
Whatever his origins, he remains, beautiful and unshakably ominous.
As the moments pass, perhaps during which you grow relieved and relaxed, the snowhorse grins.
It is a nearly unnoticed motion; the gentle twist of that ice maw. Yet you cannot shake the sensation that it had happened, that this thing had moved.
