Myfanwy, may you spend your lifetime
“”
Beneath the midday sunshine's glow,
The hunger was coming.
Autumn had only just begun, but Myfanwy had seen enough winters to sense the changing weather and shrink at the inexorable march of time. Honestly, it only took one. Wanderlust pulled at her hooves and her heart, calling her toward bountiful harvests, and today she answered the call by leaving the water behind and donning the tenuous trappings of horsehood, that she might pretend for just a moment that winter was only a time of cold and crystal-white.
Myfanwy slipped through Viride Forest as silently as she haunted the eddying pools of her creekside home. Sunlight seemed as frightful and exciting as each twisting shadow as its leaf-dappled rays played along her shimmering lilac skin and set her moon-white hair alight. She knew these woods like a bird on the wing, knowing only by the quiet beckoning of water where safety lay, and each breath of wind through the treetops thrilled her blood like the rattle of sun-bleached teeth and bones.
A rustle rose above the gentle scrape of turning leaves and she pressed herself against a sentinel oak with such urgency that the pearls of her veil bounced against her freckled cheek. They moved erratically like prey, and the part of her that yearned for the water yearned also for such uncertainty. How easy it would be to lead him away to the creek, to push back the lean times for a little longer.
How easy.
With a breath to settle her racing heart the lilac lady crept out from behind her hiding place as supple as a sigh, her bright eyes quizzical behind the sheer veil covering her face as she beheld the strange stallion for the first time.
He gleamed in the dappled sunlight, a white tower of perplexed horseflesh venting his frustration in the acid stroke of his tails and the aggressor's curve of his horns. This one was not of the water, or even of Novus. Myfanwy wondered what he would look like underwater and immediately after wondered if she should simply flee deer-like back into the woods, but the trick was up. Certainly with those long legs, he could outpace her - on land.
"Excuse me," she interceded, her brightening songbird voice belying the warring factions in her head, "are you lost?"
“”
Dance for a hundred years or so.
@El Toro
