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Auds flicked from side to side as blunt ivories pierced the patch of clover beneath her favorite three, the weeping willow by the stream. Long had she waited to taste the sweetness that was fresh clover tainted only by the soot of the soil she called mother earth and home. Home…Hopeful Valley. It was as if a pearl amongst marbles…splendid but so often misplaced or mistook. It had been ages since she stumbled upon this land then lead by Silver Fire and others, even longer since her brush with humans, and let us not forget the never-ending love stories. Though if one were to recant each and every one a year would surely pass before the ebony femme had finished the tales. She had loved them all, each a part of her they had taken, never to return. Pools of wise blue gazed out from her coverage, foliage dancing in the mid summer’s breeze. It was as if the land knew she had returned and with this knowledge and begun to rejoice and spring forth with all her splendors to embrace. Yellow butterflies fluttered about as a songbird did sing a tune for which they could dance to. Relaxed. This is what the aged dame felt. A peace that she could not understand and yet had not wishes to fully grasp. Perhaps this was the end. She had come home to say her goodbyes, when in truth there was no one to whom she could speak them. Gone were the ghosts of her past - Dashing and Glamorous as they may be. She’d have laid her head down there that peaceful summer’s eve and let the lullaby of death slowly take her, but as it were mother nature had other plans and soon her peaceful slumber was broken as voices dribbled forth from the fields nearby. Auditories swiveling to grasp the full location Moonlight snorted as a pesky fly made do of her nose for a perch. Shaking the annoying pest away cranium was raised and pools gazing out once more to her home before her. Where moments ago she would have said ghosts did not exist the lithe raven found herself lost in memories. For not only did one, but two of her past stand no more then a few yards away. Each having hold of a piece of her heart, she felt it flutter with remembrance and yearning, but as before tension too. For whom did she call to first…who did she make known her presence? It was then that the young fae’ was noted. Optics watching her body language and instantly sensing the fear that resonated there, this would not do. Stilts did shift as with a fluid movement much like a dancer the obsidian mare made herself known. Petals parting in way of soft greeting, the light neigh a reassurance to the young one but also a calling to the others. She would catch three birds with stone this evening…and to think she had not even thought herself to wake to dream again. Name whispered against the wind: Moonlight I am of the: Fairer Sex I have the features of a: Quab (Quarter/Arabian) I am painted the color of: the midnight sky I am marked by: the Cresent moon on my forehead and nothing more I’ve lived upon this Earth: 10+ years I belong to: No one I rest my weary bones within: Hopeful Valley | |