Common

As dawn begins to lift the darkness from the night sky, she is there. She does not appear in a marvelous display of mystery and intrigue but none the less she appears in the deepening morning standing silently like some detailed statue of etched silver gilded in the morning sunlight. She stands silently on the hillside, her brilliant silver blue colored eyes taking in the sights and sounds that lay before her. Ghostly zephyr fingers twisted themselves into the boundless curls of her obsidian colored hair, tossing the elegant coils in a haphazard spray across her delicately beautiful face (for certainly was no face as mesmerizing as her own), leaving a section of sleek dark hair before her fierce, eerie eyes of deep ever changing azul.

She does not gaze down on the world before her with the eyes of one that believed the world should bow down to her. Like some great evil queen demanding ultimate power and love from her people. No, my little silverling gazes down upon the various new and unfamiliar equines with wonder and anticipation. Though she is still young in the eyes of the gods, she is wise enough to know that in the eyes of those that call this place home, no doubt she is the stranger who sticks out like a sore thumb. She was born far from these shores, back in the world beyond these mountains where mists now choked out all life... in a world that was once as familiar to her as this place had now become. Here she had no home, here, she was the ever strange wanderer... the nomad.

Paper-thin nostrils flare, sifting through the variety of scents that the billowing zephyrs brought to her. Some were familiar, like the scents of pine, oak, dried sweet-grass, and fir. Others, were far different. The scent of those she had known were long faded and even the those that she had come to know through passing were nothing more than a faint memory to her olfactory senses now. Occasionally, she caught the scent of Shamwari, and wondered if he still called the open prairie his home, but she did not dare to hope. The fleeting thought to travel there crossed her mind, to see the windswept grasses that rolled over the hills like waves upon the ocean once more, but then again, if the herd lands belonged to another now, she doubted they would welcome her intrusion with open arms.

Here and there horses wandered past as she cautiously ingresses deeper into the meadows, oblivious to her restlessness; stallions all of whom were no doubt caught up in the throws of collecting more members of their harem than to truly give the pale dancer much consideration. Her hoof fall is quiet as she wades through the thick summer grasses, leaving barely a sign of her passing in even the softest of dirt. She does not have any particular place to go, no destination in mind. She instead simply pauses here and there to dip her muzzle to the brilliant emerald green shoots and grasps a mouthful from time to time. She grazes not out of necessity for it is clear by the supple curve of her hips and the lean, womanly physique of her frame that she has learned to keep herself well-fed. She merely chews now to calm her mind. Tiny, pointed ears remain perked however, alert amid the mass of wind tangled hair that crowns her brow and falls in tumbling curls across the flat of her face, waiting.... come what may...