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White flakes clung to my pale eyelashes, I barely blink and they melt across my cobalt cheeks. They are swiftly replaced by more falling puff. I keep blinking them back, my grey gaze trying to stay on the different white shapes in front of my eyes. I had no idea where I was going, just some where to settle from the on coming storm. The cold attempts to nip at my half feathered limbs, but I don't feel it. I've been numb for a while now in a number of ways, and my limbs only continue to cut through the fresh powder. If I wasn't moving my brain was crackling, so I had to keep moving, getting rid of the built up energy. Besides I never minded the winter.
The fresh white blanket was always a symbol of a clean slate, something holy to me. I always enjoyed staring at the snow flakes falling from the sky, pretending I could fly through stars in that little time of childhood. Then I grew to hate anything with wings, but that was the past of a boy. I was no longer a child, just an unknown solider.
Strands of my white tail offset behind me. Hot waves of air roughly casting from my nostrils I know my nose is running, but I soon catch a trail or the remains of one. The falling snow is attempting to cover it too, and I give a fierce heave, fighting against the force of everything that held me back. Come on. There had to be a purpose, and the moon light offers me a clue, a dark hole that is a rough circle. A cave of ice was it? There were pieces of me that wished to avoid that dark place. I could tell had faint memories, the coming and going of many others. I felt I shouldn't be around others, no matter how lonely I was. A wary I, my senses check the area. I hear only wind, I see only blue ice and snow, and nothing but the past drifts in my nose. Snorting, a shiver rakes my body, but it is not directly from the cold.
Ginger steps I hear my hooves clip upon the hard surface only after a single stride. Strange sound, never walking on ice at this age. Slowly my eyes begin to adjust to the shadows, and I take a long inhale reminding myself of the doors location. I turn when I am certain nothing is in here, but me. I am eager to see any light from the moon. Looking to the sky I can see the glow, and the thick, grey clouds starting to take it over. The snow only continues to fall lazily, the wind not yet howling. I had a guess that would soon change and I must be stuck here for the night, and what would I do in the morning?
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