October's shaking heart shrouds in its cage, deflated by the uncertainty radiating from her pinched capillaries. Beneath her dark coat, heat was searing and creating abnormal heaps of sweat in her skin as she dances around the pearly mare. Even though the sun filters through trees to touch her hide, the coat is thick, matted, and lackluster. She most certainly looks like a demon as her eyes sparkle, glazing over the mare’s veiny wings. October resists a sudden urge to touch them with the curled edge of her deformed maw. She could only imagine the wing’s warmth and texture. They appeared crunchy as the filtering light gently grazed over them, sort of like she wished to do with her teeth. But she still resisted the urge when her nerves broke the thought, even as saliva pooled along her tongue.

But, as she was about to taste her saw shaped lips, the mare’s mane began to rise in the hands of chilled water sprouting from the small pond below. Her pupils widened as it seemed the water had a mind of its own, going against the freak of nature to add sparkly frost against her mane tips. As the water splashed back where it belonged, October felt a twisting in her own mane. She inhales and breathes a foul odor. Her head flinches, and her eyes flash to perhaps the most grotesque being alive. But October finds her simply beautiful as her orange gaze scans the slimy coat and wrinkled face. She reminds her of a stillborn, slipping through the folds of its mother’s womb, smelly and dead, foul to the eyes and nose. October grins at the girl as she performs artwork in her mane, and she thinks of tasting her slimy flesh.

Another appears from the dense wood, walking like a warrior atop such stoic legs. He’s finely muscled, and for a second he reminds her of the DemonKing, who tore the world with his demonic thrills. She begins to shake again as she glares into his icy eyes - uncomfortable under his attention. The magical mare leaves and October’s thin neck moves to get a better glimpse of the snowy stallion, the rock twined in her mane touches the skin and she notices how warm it is - she compares it to the heat of Couth's wings. The frosty stallion, Mauja asks of the magical nymph, the sound of his voice caries a tone that makes some sort of wire tense throughout the dainty mare's body. Spasms rock her head each way as she answers his question at near simultaneous timing with Couth. The strange child slinks back a few steps, near panicked by the strangers under sweaty skin. Her teeth grind.

She nearly breaks when the pearly Pegasus turns to her, asking of the generous nymph's prize. All eyes turn to her and the rock grows hot against her black flesh. She can't control her thoughts, they toss and turn within the nervous confines of her skull until she just can't help but blurt, and blurt loudly. "It's warm like the blood in the veins in your wings." She grins mindlessly.

The dreams in which I'm dying.
Are the best I've ever had