Goldenrod
mare | 15.0hhs | buttermilk buckskin | of the desert
Eyes of soft gold blinked against the rising sun, causing black lashes to flutter down and grace one's cheeks. Black rimmed ears perked forward to listen to the sounds of the fall fowl and the chattering of desert jerboa. Flicking her long black tail, the buckskin mare named Goldenrod let her frame shift on the sands and listened with a grin as the smaller critters of the Desert once again fell silent. Her neck lifted to the sky as she scanned the endless sea of blue, but no sounds left her lips as she contemplated.
Turning her head back to the open expanse of the Desert, Goldenrod thought more. She had been practicing and waiting. Her silence had been vast and her frame more of a ghost than an actual figure. She had strayed from Asmodeus and the witch queen. She had laid in wait for something to happen, but nothing did. Instead, the buckskin girl was nothing more than a whisper in the breeze. She served as nothing, had learned nothing, and better yet, would be nothing in the face of others. Tossing her head with the thoughts ringing true to her own ears, the morgan mare snorted out a breath before she turned away from the heart of her home.
Originally, Goldenrod had come here for Nyimara, but that had not gone anywhere. Lastly, she had practically spit in Asmodeus’s face and that had done nothing either. Not wanting to extend any olive branches or create devil spawn, she avoided all males during this time of year. For some reason though, Goldenrod found herself slinking off to walk the edges of her home. She traded scents with Octavius, the giant wraith of his own right. Both horses had spent more time away than within and it made her curious of what was going on behind the drafts eyes. What could he be planning and better yet, what could he have already set into motion? Not staying with the know of the herd, Goldenrod spent too much time questioning and guessing instead of actually searching for the answers.
Farther down the border than before, Goldenrod lifted her nose to the air and pulled in a breath. Her eyes narrowed at what she scented on the wind, but she cataloged the findings mentally. Shrugging her shoulders at the unknown scent that was not Salem, the mare shifted away from where she was heading on a more tricky part of the Desert and found a trail well used. Humming under her breath, the pale mare slipped on her hind end and let herself go down the hill with a smile on her face as the breeze pushed her mane out behind her.
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