A gentle rush of wind fills the air as an owl descends through the trees, sending a shower of leaves down to the ground below. He alights on a low-lying branch for rest, ruffling his beak through his feathers in content.
Toulouse watches the large avian with interest from his place in the shadows. It had been quite some time since he had seen a messenger owl—but even here in this new world, the bird seemed the same as all the others before. This one was slim and compact, leaner and made for flying long distances.
How far has this one flown? The curiosity bubbled up unbidden from within him, but he made no effort to push it away. More importantly… why is it here?
He could make out part of a seal stamped onto the letter, bright and important-looking. His heart beat a little faster inside of his chest—perhaps it was a matter of royalty, of wealthy lords and ladies? Or politics, perhaps, a decree from a distant king? Surely it was something of importance.
His curiosity was getting the better of him again.
He moved out of the shadows slowly, hovering near the shade of the trees. The owl’s head snapped to attention at the sudden movement, his yellow eyes meeting the seafoam green of Toulouse’s gaze. But there was something soft within the owl, something naive and trusting, and it showed in those golden depths.
That’s what a lifetime of comfort and captivity will do to you.
Bird and horse watched each other as the palomino drew slowly closer, every step slow and deliberate, speed and time measured with the ultimate carefulness to avoid scaring the creature into taking flight. The owl shifted, and Toulouse paused. The branch the owl sat on was low, so low that Toulouse could easily see eye-to-eye with him. As the owl continued his methodical preening, the ivory splashed gelding continued his approach, drawing nearer and nearer before finally stopping beside the tree.
His horns brushed the branches overhead, knocking free a handful of leaves that fluttered gently past his nose. He hardly glanced their way, paying no attention to their descent—his attention was for the messenger owl alone.
And the message tied to his foot.
”What have you got there, friend?” he crooned, craning his head forward. A glimmer of suspicion shone in the owl’s eyes, the feathery bird leaning away from Toulouse’s unwanted touch. A frown threatened, tugging at the corners of his pale lips; he was quick to hide it in a smile.
”Come on now,” he cajoled, persistent in his reach. ”You’ve traveled a long way. Just let me help you—I’m not going to hurt you.”
Perhaps another promise he couldn’t keep—maybe he had no intention of staying true to his word at all. But his voice was honey sweet, a gentle whisper in the owl’s ear. ”And I’ll be careful with it.” At least some part of it was honest, an inkling of truth to give conviction to his deceiving plea. He reached further still, nearly touching the owl’s soft white back now. His chest hardly moved, hardly daring to breathe in his concentration.
”…I’ll make sure it gets to the right hands.”
The owl’s head tilted towards Toulouse. He had him.
His telekinetic grasp remained slow and controlled as it pulled on the bow, the elegant carmine ribbon falling away and the rolled up letter falling into his waiting grasp. He let out his breath in an audible sigh as it did, relaxing visibly. The owl had turned now to watch him with an expectant look in his eyes.
”Thank you?” Seeming satisfied, the bird went back to its preening as though nothing important had happened.
With a now-shaking grip, Toulouse had just broken the seal and was about to hold the letter up to the light for reading—
—When a twig snapping behind him made him freeze.
He whirled around to face the intruder, blonde hair flying in the dappled forest light like a halo around his striking face. The letter he shoved inside of the inner pocket of his scarves—perhaps just a second too late to keep its existence hidden.
Well this wasn’t the Night Court. Closer, but no cigar. Perhaps he should travel on, no more delays, no more stops. These distractions and side ventures were more dangerous than he should allow. He still, without having stepped foot in the Night Court or learned more of the local politics, was walking blind. Yet, as much as ‘procedure’ called for him to carry straight for the castle and keep, he kept wandering off track. It seemed, that now that he was released from his solitude the gold couldn’t help but make a few new… friends.
Of course, this place was absolutely stunningly gorgeous…it was making it quite hard for all the darkened and evil manipulations to pool to the surface. Maybe if he wasn’t so hungry for a coin or laugh he’d eased off his rockets and enjoyed it, but not today. Even the gold, a near master of the craft, was finding it hard to think of pillage and plunder when he gazed out over rolling green hills and rainbows. It was nice- It was disgusting.
So that is why he was slipping through shadows and hovels in the forest. They may be less populated, but they were much more familiar. Cloven hooves dance around the limbs and sticks with a practiced careful step, so that only the small sound of rustling yellow leaves could be heard. He wasn’t necessarily trying to hide. Remember the goal was to be found. But he also was finding himself quite bored. It seemed he would find no honey pot today. Wanting some fun. Disgusted by the fields. Bored by the forest what was a stall-
A voice low and crooning catches his ear. The gold come to a halt, and harks quickly pinpoint the speakers location as just ahead. Tasseled tail picks up above the leaves and curls, while a wolfish grin rises on his lips. Oh deary me, perhaps a red riding hood?
Decidedly not. That creature may have a scarf like a hood, but it was another stallion. The gold had taken a position behind a thicket, his earth eyes peering through the dense grove. It was the simple smile and dash he’d though he might have, but the scene before him was just as curious. The pale gold lean unicorn was talking to….an owl…
Tension and caution hung on the scene as crooned of somethings safe keeping. Edging closer to the bird, then covering the gold’s view of the scene. Harks fall back as he raises his head up once more. What could the pale one possibly want with an owl, what could it have he sought. He could still hear the other barely. Apparently he was getting close. The gold was hesitating, letting a whirl of thoughts fully develop. As he did a small voice inside him spoke…he should leave, this was just a bad idea to get involved in. Then the gold’s smile lifted up, twisting into something of cat and his shoulders settled, loose of tension. He loved that little voice, it always guided him by showing him exactly what he wanted, the opposite of whatever it said.
Normal creatures said hello, gave a shout, or a movement, but the gold wanted to spark some…tension. A branch in front of him provided a lovely opportunity. It turned out better than he possibly could imagine. With a snap the other was set ablaze of movement and defense. Brows rose to see it as he stepped into view. “My, my a bit jumpy aren’t we?” He let it roll, with a drawl and lighted tone, and with it a Cheshire grin broadened fully. He’d missed the creature tucking something away, missed it, but it was a mute observation, the stallion’s quick spin told him the same. Riding hood it seemed, had something to hide. “Oh don’t won’t worry…” Said the grinning wolf as he stepped closer.
What secret though, was exactly what the gold wanted to know. There was no better way to become a master spy, than to steal secrets before they were even needed. Plus it was just old habit by now. What could he possibly have pulled out of the bird? “…your secret love affair with the owl is safe with me.” The gold’s head tilts in humor at his own joke and his eyes sparked and glittered with his adrenaline. You might could catch more flies with honey he supposed, but where was the fun in that?
Perhaps the other would take offense and threaten to beat him to a pulp, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. Or maybe he’d huff and mouth off back. The gold liked that proposal. Or it was possible the creature would act scared and terrified, but he doubted it. The possibilities were endless. The best one though, the one the gold really wanted, involved this riding hood revealing just what it was he’d lifted from the bird….and why it was guarded so heavily. It wasn’t likely, he’d admit it, so it was a good thing he tended to play with loaded dice of lies and deceit, perhaps dotted with a bit of flare. Perhaps called something else by others…
