The trees surrounded her like an embrace.
Brynja weaved her way through the high-reaching maze of trunks and branches, relishing the feel of the rough bark against her skin. She had spent the better part of a season here, and though she'd spent most of her time amongst the others, their interactions were few and far between. There were a decent amount of them, but they were all so quiet. Granted, the chestnut mare had never been one to speak when unnecessarily, either, but she still barely knew about anyone after all this time. She recognized their scents, could pick out the unique patterns of their hoofbeats in the peat moss. She had observed them so keenly, but she was not any closer to them all than she'd been on the Crossing.
In a way, it was like being at the empty Hills all over again.
Frustrated by her lack of suitable progress, Brynja turned to the trees. She often found herself leaning against the thick trunks, brushing along them as she walked, reaching up to graze the tips of the lowest-hanging leaves. She had always loved forests, favoring the trees even back home. Every one was different, with its own secrets, its own stories... Like the equine among them, the trees were individuals of a large group, each unique from the other and yet irrevocably linked. Brynja walked alongside them, an equal, and as the branches raked their fibrous fingers along the soft swell of her belly, it almost felt like home.
The trees began to thin, and in a few moments she found a small clearing, fallen leaves grown brighter under the pocket of light from the overcast sky. Brynja walked into its center, bent her head and grazed the soft, fragile grass at her hooves with her muzzle before taking a mouthful. It was green and juicy and sweet, a bright sparkle of youth amongst the ancient foliage, and with a stirring in her belly she was reminded that this grass would not be the only young thing around here come Spring. Lost in thoughts of the future, Brynja stood in the clearing, relaxed and hopeful for what was yet to come.
