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ursula
Dawn patterns unfurled like burnished fingers of lightning in the sky, streaking across the downy pink swath as it was newly brightened by sun. She moved through the rosy glow, the awakening songbirds heralding her presence through song, their warbled warnings eerily pleasant as they fell upon her ears. How many days had it been, one, one-hundred? Folly and fear had driven her to this unfamiliar territory, and even now, when she should have been wary in a land with a potential for hostility, caution had been thrown to the wind. This place afforded a false sense of security, with the disappearance of the familiar, she'd been robbed of the concept of danger and time.
Common presences were picked out, and confidence vested in those trifling items: trees, light, shadow, birds of song, and in those simple familiarities did she design a forced security. Narrow platforms of cloven hooves moved easily over the soil, the ground still damp and beaded with dew, the flow of obsidian limbs carrying her at a buoyant trot. The gray damsel weaved easily through the trees, a flowing ghost of quicksilver that melted aimlessly through the early mist - gait smooth, countenance calm down to the steady huffs of her breath.
The milky haze of morning had yet to be burned off by the sun, and the shadows were still dark were they lay folded beneath the trees, but she found that she found some comfort in the welcoming canopy of trees. As early hour illumination flooded the area, the darkness would grow less abundant, but even in the last moments of lingering shadow, the traveling mare was content to let the mix of dew and light lull her into peace.
