Wind whispered over the snow covered prairie, creating wisps of snowflakes that danced in the air and swirls of color and light. Ostara watched the dance with eyes wide and a smile on her dark lips. She and her brother had come to this place just before the seasons had changed and it was a life she was coming to know. She had been so young when her dark hooves first touched the beaches of this island and she could barely remember Tinuvel. Samhain spoke of the island fondly, if Samhain’s voice ever took on any tone of inflection, but she could not remember the mountains he spoke of, nor the springs and fields. The islands was as a mystery to her as her mother, her sister, and almost her father. They were memories she longed to visit but did not regret letting blow away in the winds with the snowflakes.

Her bay body, so very different from the pale form of her brother, scampered through the deep snows. Longer tufts of grass brushed against the deep brown when she went through deeper patches that had accumulated in the wind. Careless to the world she pranced and danced in the mild winter day and enjoyed the freedom that nature had given her. This was a land that did not truly die in winter. At least not that she could see. There was still grass under the deep snow and still a life to live above it. Kicking up the snow with her hooves, she laughed happily to herself. Her voice rang against the sunshine. Nothing to hold her back and nothing to hold her down she took off across the prairie. Young legs stretched to take her as far and as fast as she could. With wild abandon she simply ran.