Insert witty subject line here. Posted on April 4, 2020 at 08:45:50 PM by SIGHURD
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Her home, somewhere distant and nestled in the trees that hide away in a nook between the mountains, was not known for creating large, beastly creatures. Her family, small and well gathered amongst the trees, were stalwart creatures that were stout, and yet oddly elegant in their shapeliness.
Sighurd was no different, looking as a small red stain in the snow next to the large blue stallion, still eyeing him as though he were to develop a sudden hunger for horse-flesh and turn about the two striped horses as though they were a grand feast.
Yet in their words, she finds comfort- knowing now that the great stallion was simply a man searching for his family, and perhaps his appetite had not yet come to fruition.
“Winter is always quiet.” She observes rather obtusely, turning her dark eyes away from the two men and looking to the trees for a moment or two, wondering where the bird song was, the gurgle of creeks, and the murmur of voices. “It seems everyone is still asleep, except for those of us without a home.” Sighurd does not lament that she is a woman without place, and instead finds it refreshing that she may wander these fields without anyone to tell her otherwise.
Not that she had ever been a prisoner in her own home.
“Sighurd.” She adds off-handedly, remembering the foreign way that her father said her name when she was little more than a child, and she remembers the way her mother had coddled her and cooed over her striped legs, as if she had been some prize. “Perhaps we are all due for an adventure.” She finds herself musing out loud, no doubt suspecting this place had more nooks and crannies to discover.