“Greetings to you,” came a voice, melodious and softened by the blanketing snow. With slow and certain steps, the bay mare approaches, carrying a thin layer of snow upon her own back, ebony mane weighted down by the wintry wetness, forelock veiling the small white star that served as the only brightness upon Ruth’s hide. “Worry not, friend. I am as alive as you,” she said with a gentle smile and an elegant dip of her muzzle, once she’d drawn near enough to her companion to be far more visible. Beneath the flakes of ice, she scents a faint trace of moss and stone and earth, and her dark eyes brighten with undisclosed recognition.
Ruth does not yet remark on it, or introduce herself, choosing instead to continue her thought.
“Though, if you were so inclined, you’d find no judgement from me.” There is a lightness to her tone, but her expression speaks to how genuine she is in her words. Taking a moment, she glances aside, peering through the falling snow and into the night. The Falls were not far, tucked away in a little stretch of woodland. Ruth had been sheltering there, waiting for her brother to show, so that they could journey north together.
“What wonder and wrath the oldest trees of these isles have stood as silent witness to, I wonder?” the dark, delicate mare muses aloud. “If only they could talk, what wisdom we could glean.”
After a moment, she turns back to the white-marked mare, completely at ease. “My name is Ruth,” she offers. And, curious about why her new companion is roaming, she ventures to ask; “What brings you out into this quiet evening?” There was a certain tranquillity to be found in the night hours, and the snow served to wrap everything delicately.
Ruth had always been entranced by the pure and beautiful sight of white fields, that somehow drowned out the din of the world, so that everything seemed a little less dark and dangerous.
|