Cold.
That was the singular thought on Nazar’s mind as he peered out into bleak, white expanse of the meadow. Powdered snow whirled around his legs and belly, kicked up by the icy breeze that swept in off the coast. He should be used to winter by now, yet every spring he forgets just how cold and miserable he had been. How cold and miserable he would be again. Even in the shelter of the small thicket where he stood now, he had little protection from it. It was at times like these, he would feel a pang of jealousy toward the heavier horses for their ridiculously hairy winter coats, and then charstise himself. His kind were built to survive, and he was no different.
He sighed to himself, and began to paw the snow away to reveal the crisp, but not particularly nutritious, grass below. He kept the denser of the trees to his right, protecting himself on his deaf, eyeless side and took a few bites with little enjoyment. His single, pale eye watched for any signs of life, be they potential friend or foe, or just something to observe for a while. Anything to take his mind off the cold.
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