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04-23-2013, 08:12 PM
ANTIQUITY
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walk "talk" think
The thrush was flittering through the trees. Its grey back shined as though made of glass rather than feathers. The bird was followed, but not by a predetor or by some watcher with a pair of binoculars and a book of species. By a slight, short, plucky little pony. Her travels made her weary but she pressed on, following the thrush to a land only fabled by the crazy and bold. A place where there are others of her kind. She doesn't expect there to be ones that look like her. Why, at twelve hands high, how could she? But maybe there are some that also have a shining horn from their skull as well.
As she entered the large field, she let the bird flutter away as she looked around. The gateway to a new life. There were some other equines around. Some normal looking, some with the wings of the fowl protruding from their shoulders and others like her, with a single horn. Her eyes bounced from soul to soul, but her curiosity wasn't strong enough to have her approach one of them. So she settled in the corner of the area, slowly picking grass from the ground. Her long, curly silver tail whipped around and lashed at the insects that pestered her.
She grazed for a while before lifting her head. No one has approached her, so she returns to her meal. The grass was a bit sweeter here, more moist. She continued to wound her way through the field, picking more at the shorter grass that grew nearer to the trees. The shade felt good after a long summer, but a chilling wind blew through the trees....
As she entered the large field, she let the bird flutter away as she looked around. The gateway to a new life. There were some other equines around. Some normal looking, some with the wings of the fowl protruding from their shoulders and others like her, with a single horn. Her eyes bounced from soul to soul, but her curiosity wasn't strong enough to have her approach one of them. So she settled in the corner of the area, slowly picking grass from the ground. Her long, curly silver tail whipped around and lashed at the insects that pestered her.
She grazed for a while before lifting her head. No one has approached her, so she returns to her meal. The grass was a bit sweeter here, more moist. She continued to wound her way through the field, picking more at the shorter grass that grew nearer to the trees. The shade felt good after a long summer, but a chilling wind blew through the trees....
OPEN /tags
GOOD /muse
281 /words
- /other
[/color]
GOOD /muse
281 /words
- /other
