the Rift


[OPEN] getting sick of predictability

Gawen Posts: 26
Outcast
Colt :: Hybrid :: 16.3hh :: 6 Months
Atlas :: Royal Nine-tailed Kitsune :: None Brit
#1


Gawen is brave, okay, and he won't let anybody tell him any different.

Which is how he found himself skittering nervously away from the Edge borders, constantly looking back frantically like his mother would come burning out of the trees like a demon from hell to scream at him and drag him back kicking and screaming into the herdland. Gawen quickened his pace just imagining it, the visual sending shudders down his spine.

He almost turned around, the looming shadows on the untouched snow past the boundaries far more intimidating than his mother's anger. But he was tired of exploring the Edge, and he wanted to be brave. He wanted to go find special herbs to bring back for Maude and Tilney, and prove that he could be a good Moon Doctor. And the closest wild land was the Grove, with its abundance of foliage hiding beneath the snow and the still, frozen waters.

As soon as he was sure he wouldn't be followed, the awkward, loose-limbed foal went flailing and skipping through the thick snow. Winter was Gawen's absolute favorite season. He wasn't as cold as the others with his thick feathers, and when he fell, there was this amazing white substance that broke his fall! Snow was Gawen's best friend, and he was astounded by the scarcity of his bruises as the snowfall increased through the season. It was honestly the best teacher Gawen had ever had - the thickness of the snow keeping his legs straight and his body generally upright. Astonishing, really.

Except ice. Gawen hated ice.

His hoof hit a patch of it on the way down to the lake and he slid sharply, careening down into the snow with a sharp noise of surprise. As the snow settled he was staring up at the sky, a veritable snow angel with how his wings were splayed at full length beside him. Frowning heavily, Gawen rolled over onto one side and sighed, kicking his hooves beneath him reluctantly. Muttering to himself as he used his horn and hooves to scrape away the snow, hunting for the perfect herb to take back to Tilney and Maude.

GAWEN
The sun is filling up the room,
And I can hear you dreaming.

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Messages In This Thread
getting sick of predictability - by Gawen - 11-14-2016, 12:51 AM
RE: getting sick of predictable - by Sunjata - 11-14-2016, 01:01 AM
RE: getting sick of predictable - by Gawen - 11-14-2016, 01:08 AM
RE: getting sick of predictable - by Sunjata - 11-14-2016, 01:16 AM
RE: getting sick of predictable - by Gawen - 11-14-2016, 01:55 AM
RE: getting sick of predictable - by Sunjata - 11-14-2016, 02:08 AM
RE: getting sick of predictability - by Gawen - 11-14-2016, 03:14 AM
RE: getting sick of predictability - by Sunjata - 11-14-2016, 03:33 AM

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