Dögun
Winter's chill melts away, day by day. There is an excitement that vibrates in the air, the promise of renewal. The creeks are swollen with an overabundance of muddy spring runoff. The springs threaten to unleash its muddy water, it has yet to happen. The Pony King heaves a sigh, before he pivots away from the rushing waters. He had to search out Eviline, he could sense that she was about to foal. She separated herself from the herd a day ago, most likely off to find a safe haven.
Hooves travel across the muddy ground with ease, he tosses a few clods of mud behind him. He navigates the trail through the dark pine trees. His dark chocolate eyes take in his surroundings. The Inlet, was still his, the few remaining mares, were his. A soft breeze wafts across the tundra bringing with it the sweet scent of lichens and brand new grass. He halts at the edge of the wide open tundra, his eyes search for the pure white of Eviline.
He sets off at a ground covering tölt, he heads in the direction of where he had first met her. He figures that she would go somewhere familiar. He breathes in gulps of the cold mountain air, Spring was still harsh here on the Inlet. As he nears the hill that lead to the sea, he slows to a trot, his hooves eagerly reach out in front of him. That was when her scent wafts down the hill into his flared nostrils. She was not alone. Excitement vibrates his grulla hide, as he crests the hill, his eyes fall on them. Her pure white coat, contrasted against the ebony coat of their child.
He nickers, he slows as he nears the pair, his ears flicker a top his head. ”Eviline.” His words soft, as not to stir the child at her hooves. He approaches quietly, until he can reach his dark muzzle to her shoulder. He waits for her to speak.
Grulla - Icelandic - 13.2 hh
|