Falls

marzanna does not want love. the golden mare does not even crave affection truly… it is something else the pale woman desires, though even she has a hard time naming it. control, perhaps? power? but even then it is not so much about the end game for marzanna…. she just likes to see how well she can pull the puppet strings and see the toys as they dance.

it is the lack of control that had driven the golden mare away from the scene at the commons. sure, she had stood by for a moment to watch the bloodshed, but there was little satisfaction in it… it was not because of her that the stallions clashed. clearly there was some history between them that caused their quarrel.she lets them slip from her mind, as easily as if the entire interaction had never occurred.

the draft cross moves at a jaunty trot northward. her feathered hooves beat the earth with surprising athleticism and she moves with a conscientious collection. the weather can’t seem to make up its mind… the sun burns hot for a moment on her gilded back and then she feels a chill as it slips behind a cloud. it reminds her of the ebb and flow of her moods, grounding her to the earth as a kindred spirit.

when the trail narrows before her, shuttered by trees, marzanna slows to a walk, wondering what she will find ahead. she is pleased when the path widens and breaks into several offshoots, most of which lead to a stream that cuts a winding path through the landscape. the pale mare has always had an affinity to the water. despite the chill of the air she makes her way down the creekside, hooves clattering against the rocks. she lowers her white lips to the fresh water, eager to sate her thirst with long draughts of the cool clear water.

when marzanna has finally drunk her fill she lifts her head, shaking the tresses of platinum mane from her eyes. the mare looks upstream, intrigued by the view of waterfalls some distance away, and the spectators she can barely make out through the lines of the trees. they gather there to witness the easy majesty of water cascading over the rocks, falling to the pool below, but she wonders how many of them consider they mysteries that lie downstream.