I'll let you listen to my sweet, sweet lies.

As quiet as a shadow, the thoughts carried the delicate soul through the caves. The promise not to go exploring was shattered, now her tiny split hooves walked over the glass, her blood painted each shard. The other half of the promise remained intact. Her pretty lips promised not to wonder outside the cave, the older dove believed she meant their personal cave, the liar meant The Sanctuary as a whole. Knowing it was wrong didn't stop the white shadow, in fact it made her deceit much more exciting. The pale rose picked the petals from her own body, her the golden centre of the pearl petals held the truth. You only had to look closely, but who dared?

Once you donned the mask of an innocent maiden, no body looked past it. Foolish girl, pretty little fool, who would ever come to doubt you? A question for the philosophers. They were the clever men, she was just a spider in the garden. Still the quiet shadow moved without interruption, the only betrayal that remained now was the secondary shadow. Noises reached her tipped ears, the delicate flick as they turned to the direction of the sounds. A friend to play with no doubt, only her games were the same that maidens her age usually played.

Rounding a corner, the little rose watched a great stallion splash into the icy waters that he now claimed as his bath. It was a queer fascination the was withheld within her eyes, the hulking mass before her did intimidate her. Only a fool would be brave of the unknown, still the little rose would not back away. The ripples painted a new surface and the golden eyes stared. The light reflected beautifully onto the roof of the cave, however every time the great mass moved, the light show was ruined. Delicate chops pressed together, preventing speech.

Creeping closer the rose stared at the male, he has stolen her safe haven. It might be that she would have to punish him for it, only if he had nothing better to offer her. Her vocals danced along the waves of sound. "What are you doing?" The blade she held to him was a curious thing, invisible to the eye and made shaper by words. She held the handle and pressed the blade to the brute, only both edges were sharp. What would her do? Rush straight into her blade where it entered his chest and pressed him to her will? Or would he beat the shadow of the blade and take the hilt? Tilting her head to the side, Arwen did her best to appear like a curios and stupid foal.

446 words.