Here she perched at the top of the world: ice in her frogs, wind whistling its lullabies into her mane. She inhaled and the air stabbed her lungs; she exhaled plumes of smoke, her face half-veiled until the wind tore that away, too. Howl, then, she thought. Part of her longed to hide within the shadows of a forest – cower at the feet of broad trees, snarl at the crackle of green foliage. Valka knew the deep green of plants and the winding of secret paths. Here, now… she stood alone, tall and dark on a bleak horizon. The sheen of tundra faded into the pallid grey of a morning sky. No end… no punctuation – save her.

She moved, her massive stride a languid gesture of every refined limb. The wind ripped at her mane, pulling long swaths back from her swanlike neck. For a time, she thought of herself as something beautiful and strange – witchdaughter, child of winter. She recalled a time the snow fell against her trembling legs. Now those same legs were strong; she puffed another breath, her head held high. Valka’s single horn rose toward the sky like a crown, and she thought - why not? It was, perhaps, the first time she thought it in truth. Wasn’t she magnificent? Wasn’t every creature here? She ruled the north; she breathed the snow and pounded it beneath her hooves and made it home - home! What a joyous word. A small bound broke the rhythm of her walk. She was a doe now, fleet and lively. She was more wild than a horse, barely corporeal as the earth faded to white around her and the wind promised snow – maybe not today, not tomorrow, but soon.

With the thought of storms in her head, Valka wondered why she bothered walk. What did she want out here? What was such land good for, if not flight? She tossed her head, and heaven rolled against the pale grey of her eye – like so much storm caged up inside her, fighting at the earth. Her hooves beat a hard pulse into the permafrost – 1, 2, run! And she ran, stretching her great limbs to their full extent, teasing the hard strings of her muscles. The black and white threads of her tail fanned out behind her; long coils of mane lapped at her spine. She was moving: no reason, no fear, but the joy of speed. She gave no thought to what lay ahead or behind; she moved gracefully and thoughtlessly, hooves kicking chunks out of the frozen earth.


[ ooc: just messing around; anyone's welcome :) ]