The Lost Islands
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don't let my sorrow turn to hate


Spring was a time of life in full color for Tinuvel, especially when it finally broke free of the long winter. Oscuro, just passing his third spring season, grazed in one of the valleys inland where the grass was richly green, lusciously full, and snapped with a fresh, wet crunch when his flat teeth tore off the tops of the blades. There were little clusters of tiny white flowers scattered throughout the meadow that, at first glance, could be mistaken for piles of snow yet to melt. Oscuro brushed them aside with his velvet muzzle, inhaling their sweet perfume and immediately snorting at the overwhelming aroma. His head whipped upward, neck pulling into his shoulders, and he snorted again, his nostrils roughly vibrating as if he forcibly pushed the smell out of his nose.

Offended, his eyes - one blue, one brown - latched on to the dainty culprits in front of his hoof. Delicately he lifted one pale forehoof - such a contrast to how dark, dark black his coat was - and pressed it against the flowers. They shuddered and shivered at the contact, and he gently rested his hoof back flat again and away from them so he wouldn’t crumple them under his weight. His dark tail, peppered with streaks of white, flicked out behind his haunches before he shook his head and turned away, deciding he’d resume his grazing where he didn’t have to pick shoots of grass from between heavily scented flowers. His muzzle brushed the vegetation almost lazily, he was mostly full as he’d already been here for quite some time, but he took an idle bite and lifted his head to chew, eyes lazily half-lidded.

Until, that is, he heard a noise off in the forest a few yards from where he was standing. Oscuro’s ears perked forward and he went still, watching the shadows ahead. Most of the family had returned home alongside his father, but Oscuro had purposefully carved his own trail to spend time alone today and wasn’t anticipating anyone else from the herd being this far inland. He rumbled out a curious little nicker, hoping to catch a familiar response in return.



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