Twilight had transcended swiftly across the world. The dark beauty of the night sky had become diffused with a vast abundance of glittering diamonds as the roan dame set off for the Threshold from her desert home. Each instance the sunlight was adjourned from the sky the shining gems shone more radiantly against the black velvet of space, and almost subconsciously she had summoned the heavenly dove to once again accompany her in her late night wanderings, the silvery moonlight serving as their pliant guide.
By the time they arrived at the Threshold, dawn had threatened to break across the horizon, the very faintest traces of illumination painting a dilute creamy pigment along the skyline. She weaved with ease through the towering trees that twist from the sodden earth, moving through the gaps with an arc in her anatomy much like the supple bending of a fish through water. But she was far from being such a creature, more suitably equivalent in her frail grace to the manner of a fluttering dove, gracile and elegant as it sailed through the air.
Through her aimless wanderings, she had come across a stallion sleeping upon the earth, amply occult by a thicket of trees. Columba had first made her aware of the stallion, fluttering to one of the low lying limbs and chirping exuberantly in its hollow, supernal voice that was simultaneously so quiet, and yet so pristinely audible. It apparently hadn't roused the dormant wanderer, for he remained deep within his mind, the relishing instant of sleeping likely too ambient for his tired body to interpose with cognizance.
Columba fluttered down to the emerald loam that encompassed them, a trail of pyrogenic dust careening slowly through the air in her wake. It observed the slumbering creature with fearless curiosity, avian head tilted as it slowly approached the ebonized one. Cassiopeia lowered her slender face a few inches so that the solacing chorus of her voice could reach him easily. "Stallion," The word was like satin as it fell from her lips, a mere whisper, gentle and laden in a wispy film of placidity. She didn't intend to startle him, she only wished to wake him gently so he may sleep in a place far safer, under the protection of a herd.
Once alerting him to her presence, she finally pressed the velvety plush of her muzzle against his shoulder, the gesture stagnant and deliberate in an attempt to make him farther aware of her presence. "It isn't safe to sleep here." There was a truth to her words, for one could never be quite sure what creatures lurked in these shadows. Perhaps she was being paranoid, for she had never encountered one herself.
She supposed it was far better to be safe than sorry.
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