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11-02-2012, 06:52 PM
The gray yearling ruffles his dark wings, surprised in a funny kind of way by the youngling's fearless response. It wasn't really a surprise- the dark colt was clearly a newborn, but still! Yol chuckled, fluffing up his wings as the curious little guy zones in on the clear water.
"I never had a horn! I have these things, called wings, on my back so I can fly! I'm Yol. What's your name?" Yol replies cheerfully, stepping closer to the darker boy. The Percheron drops his head, looking at the water giggling down its bed, watches it as it bubbles and froths and narrowly avoids the ice-rimmed edges. Struck by childish curiousity, Yol dipped his muzzle in, only to sputter and yank his head up. Ice rimmed his whiskers, glistened in delicate white beads on his dark snout.
It was, however, Yol's first winter, so you had to forgive him.
Yol glanced around the little meadow, eyes bright, taking in the delightful snow. He had never known of snow. He called it 'cold-white-fluff'.
