Willfur


A smell of damp and salt and vast, open space saturates the mule's nostrils until he's sure he'll never not feel the dry tang of brine against the back of his throat or the way the sand shifts beneath his hooves, sucking him down into the shore like a jealous, covetous thing to use him up and spit him out again when he's hollow and smooth like the grit-worn shells dotting the beach. Cerulean blue dominates his vision, pulsating like breath or a beating heart, its dominion only challenged by the gathering violet clouds of winter weather.

Willfur sighs.

Winter is not his favorite season. He gets cold quite easily, surprising for someone of his size and build, and despite the benefit of instinctive foresight to thicken his coat each year, it never seems to grow quite dense enough to keep out the brittle cold entirely and he bitterly hates the shivering misery of a frigid night, even while being able to appreciate the quiet, austere beauty of a snow covered landscape in the daylight, all rounded edges and sparkling white with ice.

"I guess it's time to break out the ear warmers." Cheering a little, he pulls two orange and blue striped sleeves of a soft, slightly fuzzy, knit material from the leather satchel hanging across one shoulder. It takes a moment of intense concentration to slip the not-so-little mule-mittens on, but once they're in place his satellite ears flick forward, expression visibly brightened. "Ahh.. Much better."

He swings his head experimentally, checking that the ear warmers are on securely and not bunched or wrinkled in a way that might pinch or rub over time. A little braid of single strands connecting the two tubes together jumps and bounces against the stallion's forehead with each sudden movement, punctuating every flick and toss of his massive skull.


@Leto