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04-12-2013, 09:21 PM
Thin clumps of ice, like scabs, cracked and fissured under the assault of Valka’s hooves. She scented Frostfall in the air and wondered how the snow fell here – for days? In roaming clouds that blinded, trapped, and sucked the life from those who wandered foolishly? What a gorgeous notion! Valka thought of weather creeping predatory over the sparse pines, howling in the peaks. Snow had christened her birth; it called to her, though she walked green paths and found comfort in the dark embrace of trees.
Today, of course, she forced herself into the open. If she wished to truly become one of this herd, she must adapt to its way of life – forest child or no. Slowly, then, she wandered through the wide expanses of the frozen land and watched the sky and watched the bleak, unchanging landscape. Carefully she metered her steps into long, precise strokes and held her head high on a curved neck. While no one watched her, she must practice – becoming what she was born to be. She must be cold and deadly as the land here. She must be wise and feral as the Frostheart and his daughter were.
She meant to be these things, but a noise caught her attention and Valka’s ears twitched. The brooding look fell from her face and the young mare’s eyes snapped toward the sound, toward a filly who looked more dream than reality.
Slowly, Valka’s head fell to one side. The jagged point of her horn cast an odd shadow across the mare’s mismatched face, and beneath it her ears flicked back and forth. ”Girl.” Surprise rang in her voice, bleeding from it the tang of haughtiness. Valka blinked, righted herself, and took a tentative step forward. ”How beautiful you are.” Something like warmth crept into her voice and her eyes; she stepped forward again, neck lowered to the child’s height. Purple! she thought. And blue – young yet, but hanging like a silken fringe on violet borders. How lovely a unicorn foal! Valka’s head bobbed. ”You live here also? Where is your mother?” She gazed around expectantly, nostrils flared for the warmth of unfamiliar flesh. In her eyes flashed something quiet, wary. Mothers were not to be trifled with.
Today, of course, she forced herself into the open. If she wished to truly become one of this herd, she must adapt to its way of life – forest child or no. Slowly, then, she wandered through the wide expanses of the frozen land and watched the sky and watched the bleak, unchanging landscape. Carefully she metered her steps into long, precise strokes and held her head high on a curved neck. While no one watched her, she must practice – becoming what she was born to be. She must be cold and deadly as the land here. She must be wise and feral as the Frostheart and his daughter were.
She meant to be these things, but a noise caught her attention and Valka’s ears twitched. The brooding look fell from her face and the young mare’s eyes snapped toward the sound, toward a filly who looked more dream than reality.
Slowly, Valka’s head fell to one side. The jagged point of her horn cast an odd shadow across the mare’s mismatched face, and beneath it her ears flicked back and forth. ”Girl.” Surprise rang in her voice, bleeding from it the tang of haughtiness. Valka blinked, righted herself, and took a tentative step forward. ”How beautiful you are.” Something like warmth crept into her voice and her eyes; she stepped forward again, neck lowered to the child’s height. Purple! she thought. And blue – young yet, but hanging like a silken fringe on violet borders. How lovely a unicorn foal! Valka’s head bobbed. ”You live here also? Where is your mother?” She gazed around expectantly, nostrils flared for the warmth of unfamiliar flesh. In her eyes flashed something quiet, wary. Mothers were not to be trifled with.
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