Meadow

☁

Autumn has come to the islands. Sabran enjoys these seasons of change the most – in the spring, everything is coming to life, and in the autumn, everything is flushed with the last vibrant flashes of colour before the grey mist and frost of winter sets in. Most of the trees back in the Forest are evergreen, however, so Sabran has come to the Crossing this cool autumn morning to enjoy the show of ambers and golds, reds and oranges, as the foliage here begins to turn.

She wanders through the Meadow, her steps light and dreamy as her dark eyes remain focused on the nature around her. It is quite early, and the Meadow is not yet abuzz with other horses as it often becomes once the day stretches into afternoon. There are a few other horses around, she realises, but she takes little notice of them, focused instead on her meandering path.

She comes to a halt near the edge of the meadow, beneath one of the few trees scattered around the open space. A few of the leaves, their grip clearly weaker than their brethren, have already fallen, and they crunch pleasantly beneath her hooves on the cold-hardened ground.

She peers upwards, the view from beneath even better, a look of childlike wonderment on her face. The air is crisp and cool around her, and her breath clouds a little in front of nose.