Son of the Earth Posted on April 30, 2015 at 02:23:15 AM by Pagan
The stallion moved through the islands swiftly. He was in no mood to meander on his path. This gypsy was ready to make camp. His feathered hooves pounded over the grounds, the autumn wind whipping through his think hair. He could feel the freedom of this land as he circled it brought about the power he could feel within himself, the ground beneath him, and the earth around him.The sky blazed blue above him with the sun’s heat staving off the approaching winter’s cool touch. He moved across the island of Tinuvel, over hills, through trees, and across streams. The scent of another herd filled his nose by the beaches and he turned to avoid encroaching upon another man’s claimed home. Instead he moved inward, following streams and shallow valleys. There was a land, he found, sheltered from the winds of the seas and the storms that would fall. A place where he could smell that others had once made their home, but had long since moved on. The vanner slowed his pace to a cool walk, and looked around this terrain with a critically respectful eye. Though he looked for a place that could keep himself and others safe, he could already feel the land calling to him, as if the grass itself rose to twine itself in the hair on his hooves.
At last, Pagan found himself at the center of the Inlet, the end of a river at a small clear lake. Hills protected those who would dwell there for the harshest of winds. Occasional trees dotted the landscape and grass grew thick and green. The stallion raised his hooves and his voice in a call to claim this land as his. A warning to those who wished to take it, and a welcome to those who wished to share it. Replies: There have been no replies.