Posted on June 15, 2026 at 02:22:32 AM by Calanthe
Sunlight peeked through the canopy, casting leafy dapples across shoulders already pocked with cat tracks. The slender shape of a young mare wound with a quiet grace through the alpine forest. She'd grown up in a neighboring territory and had reached the unfortunate age where borders meant very little in the face of bold naive curiosity. These were not 'her' woods to explore and gawp at. This was not somewhere she had any right to be. Yet still, Calanthe pushed onward through thick stands of conifer and pine.
Ears of dove and snow white twisted atop her crown, brushing against silvered strands of forelock, They strained forward until finally they caught what had drawn her attention: the burbling gurgle of a stream. From what she could tell, it was close by. The tip of a pink-gray tongue swept over a rouged upper lip, moistening the tender skin as the girl considered the extent of her thirst. It would be smart to take advantage of water now, in case she changed her mind about when to return to the Inlet. Her absence would displease her mother at some point, surely, but that was a problem for later consideration.
Without a further thought, the champagne dun amended her course and angled toward the sound (and scent, now that a breeze was ruffling leaf and needle) of running water. It took Calanthe several minutes to hone in on the stream. Stalks of reed and the yellow blooms of arrowleaf groundsel brushed in heavy clumps against her legs and shoulders, as if they might prevent her from reaching the waterbed. The thought caused one corner of Calanthe's mouth to quirk upward in a smile.
Then, she saw the dark shape of another horse and slowed to a stop, her head cocking curiously.
Ears of dove and snow white twisted atop her crown, brushing against silvered strands of forelock, They strained forward until finally they caught what had drawn her attention: the burbling gurgle of a stream. From what she could tell, it was close by. The tip of a pink-gray tongue swept over a rouged upper lip, moistening the tender skin as the girl considered the extent of her thirst. It would be smart to take advantage of water now, in case she changed her mind about when to return to the Inlet. Her absence would displease her mother at some point, surely, but that was a problem for later consideration.
Without a further thought, the champagne dun amended her course and angled toward the sound (and scent, now that a breeze was ruffling leaf and needle) of running water. It took Calanthe several minutes to hone in on the stream. Stalks of reed and the yellow blooms of arrowleaf groundsel brushed in heavy clumps against her legs and shoulders, as if they might prevent her from reaching the waterbed. The thought caused one corner of Calanthe's mouth to quirk upward in a smile.
Then, she saw the dark shape of another horse and slowed to a stop, her head cocking curiously.
Calanthe
classic champagne dun tobiano daughter of Parvati and Carthage
Replies:
- hungry wolves fight hard battles - By Vidnir June 15, 2026 at 08:12:17 PM
- delete - By Senshine June 14, 2026 at 07:49:03 PM
Post a reply: