He moves with high steps over the frozen ground. Viđarr’s honey golden eyes fix on the Meadow. It was quiet here. He was grateful for that. He likes the quiet. It’s comforting. The sun had just broken the horizon, Viđarr’s shadow still long on the ground. Viđarr himself is a shadow. Long legs, high head. There’s something incredibly flashy about him, but in the darkest way.
Dawn would spread into early morning soon. He’s pleased with the break of day. The sky painting itself different colors, a certain splendor. Viđarr was used to waking this early. He’d only just arrived, but the sunrise here was the same as it was anywhere else. There was nothing special about this place, the Meadow especially, but at least it was populated. He’d been alone since turning his back and walking way from the last… the last place. Viđarr shook his head as if to clear it. He wouldn’t think of that. Not now.
Viđarr moved carefully to a patch of grass still showing beneath a sparse tree. There was frost, but no snow cover. He lowers his velveteen muzzle to graze, eyes never leaving the horizon. Viđarr rarely, if ever, dropped his guard. It was exhausting.
|