Kendry is undeterred by the mare’s flattened ears, as it is the only (and briefly expressed) sign that his approach is unwelcome. He is pleased when the mare moves her nose to meet his, and further warmed when she accepts his invitation to walk through the snow. She falls easily into step beside him and they walk together without words for a long while, traversing the meadow accompanied only by their steaming breath and the pleasant crush of snow underfoot.
Kendry takes in the land all around them with a deep appreciation. The snow is not yet deep, but it is generous in its coverage of the ground, and it coats the bare gray branches of the trees dotting the meadow and lining the far side of it. It is and is not home, but he loves it. Deeply, he loves these Isles. This is what brings the warmth to his eyes and his smile as he turns his head toward the black mare walking beside him, and finally interrupts the cold peace of the world around them with his deep voice pitched low.
“I’ve lived here all my life and still never tire of the first snowfall. I feel lucky every time I get to be the first to break a path through it, to leave proof of my passage a little more tangibly than just by scent alone.” He sighs, content, then gestures with his pale nose toward the rest of the field, a wide swath of snow untouched by anyone, not even carrying the tracks of rabbits. “I love the potential it represents, the possibilities.” His grin grows. “The promise.” |