Dracaena waited until nightfall to make her move.
She had arrived the previous night, while the moon hung like a fat egg over the black glass ocean. Into the trees she had retired, and remained there to recover her strength as night turned into day and day turned into night again. She slept fitfully during this time, more than aware of the presence of other horses and retreating deeper into the forest when their scent became too strong for her liking. She was not afraid, but Dracaena had no intention of making herself known until she was good and ready.
The time finally came as a thick blanket of clouds rolled in, obscuring the full moon and deepening the shadows of the landscape. Dracaena was well-rested, fed, and watered, and her spirits were high as she followed a deer trail through the trees, her senses keen and vigilant for any sign of movement nearby. She did not venture into the open fields, though it was quite possible the herd preferred to congregate there. Someone would come to investigate her eventually; she was confident about that.
The stout little mare inhaled the cool autumn breeze and continued her nighttime stroll through the trees. Yes, any time now. She was ready. Her thick, pale mane and tail were free of burrs and twigs; her dark chocolate coat was smooth and supple; her pristine white blaze and stockings were clean of mud. She had taken care to ensure all of this.
First impressions were important, after all.
DRACAENA
four; flaxen liver chestnut sabino; 15.1hh |
