Meadow

Here, tucked away under the pointed pine needles, the scent of the forest and the rain fresh in her nose, itching her lungs and tickling her face, she almost forgets her home.

It did not rain in the Cove, not like it did in other lands. The rain was often freezing, or tumbling from the sky in the form of snow, quickly melting into rain just moments before it strikes the ground. The sky was always white-grey, either promising snow or threatening to swallow the sun. There had been no sentiment of mild weather.

It was cold, and it made her skin ache.

Here, as the winter warms and turns to rain, dancing across the trees, she is momentarily saved from the memories. Staring up the trunk of the tree she hides under, Asra watches as the water trickles subtly down across the wood. She almost would have missed the stallion, for he approaches her carefully, his words reaching her before he does, and she is thankful for that courtesy.

Turning her head to face him, she notes his painted markings, and is reminded of her family. Perhaps he was a long lost brother. Yet, the children of her kin were not golden as he was- often they were black and blue, the white of their skin reaching across their bodies generously. She was the odd one out- a careful and strange mix of her mother and her father.

For a moment, her breath hitches in her throat upon seeing him, and she thinks to flee, to disappear into the trees and throw herself into the ocean.

Yet oddly, his words comfort her. Like an old familiar song, and she smiles a little smile. “I rather like the rain. It is a nice change from the snow.” When she was a child, she remembers hopping from tree-side to tree-side with her brothers, dancing in puddles and laughing. Ah, to be so young and innocent again. “Come closer, the rain is picking up.” She motions to him, shuffling to the side and opening a small space under her great tree, just as the raindrops transform into something akin to a waterfall.

Still, she eyes him so carefully, the way the white of his skin cuts off at his neck, how his eyes are such a clear, strangely familiar blue. Asra wonders if they have met, and once he is close enough, she asks. “Do I know you?”