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I stand on a cliff overlooking the sea, my eyes closed, taking in every sound, every scent, every touch of air... all of it is just... The words to describe my love for the sea escapes me every time. I cannot explain it, there are just no words i know of to convey all that i feel for the sea. So i will not explain, or even try to. My bells do not chime in the wind, i had unwrapped them before i slept, and they rested between my hooves. Seagulls flew overhead, attracted by my shiny trinkets, but i knew their nature better than they could guess. The bravest dove, snatching a bell in it's beak and flying away... or that must have been it's plan. I was not such a fool as to leave the bells plain; the end of the chains were firmly under my hoof, and when the would-be thief tried to make off with it's prize, the bell was jerked from it's grip back to the ground. "Better luck next time Brother!" I call after the bird, grinning as it screeches in indignation. Finished playing with the birds for now, my legs fold as i sink down to the ground to begin the long process of wrapping the bells around my antler. It is a task i do daily, for i sleep with the bells under my chest to deter would-be thieves such as the seagull or a raccoon, or even another horse. For ten minutes i rest on that cliff, carefully wrapping the bells, and once my task is completed, i lay a few moments more on the cliff, basking in the sensations only the sea can give me. Slowly i rise to my feet, shaking myself before i turn to look down the beach, the reassuring chime of my bells adding their song to the natural melody that filled the air. I move from the cliff, following a narrow game trail down to the sand below, my gaze focusing on the ground, seeking shells. I had no reason to rush, no real purpose as of yet, and i basked in the delight of having all the time in the world to myself, a freedom i was lacking only moderately even with my nomadic troupe. My head hung low to the ground, lips rolling over any shells i found that piqued my interest to see if they were whole before i moved on, occasionally making a rather undignified noise with my lips to clear them of gathering sand. ![[Image: untitled_1_by_wyckeddesigns-d89adg8.png]](http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2014/343/a/1/untitled_1_by_wyckeddesigns-d89adg8.png) Word Count: 424 Tags: @[Finn] |
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