The darkness closes in around him, shadowy fingers curling into fists around his mane, his scarves, his legs. The only thing missing to make this night perfect was a full moon shining overhead to light his way.
He draws to a stop beside the others, his eyes full of moonlight and malice. The mare before them says nothing, hardly even looks at the equines she’s drawn ever farther into the maze. But in the same way that the darkness crept upon them - subtly but steadily until the sky instead turned black with shadows - her wings began to beat.
Toulouse hardly noticed it at first, the way he hardly cares when a bird takes to the skies above him. But gradually, progressively, the wind she generated grew stronger and stronger.
He wrinkles his nose as a petal flies too close for comfort, as if rejecting the sickly-sweet smell that it carried. But another petal follows the first, then a third, a fourth, too many to count - and for the first time tonight, Toulouse almost feels the need to step back.
Almost.
A frown tugs at his lips, tilting them ever downwards as he resists the urge to lift his head higher, knowing he would never be able to escape the barrage of wind and flowers and ivy. His heart skips a beat, then kicks into overdrive, as if trying to keep up with the storm she’s created.
And then, almost as suddenly as it started, it stops with a flash of light and still more petals, and the mare disappears.
He surveys the holes left in her stead with a hungry look, his blood thrumming loudly in his ears. And he can’t help but thank the mare silently, for this decision is far easier than the first.
Toulouse couldn’t even stand the smell of the flowers - he wouldn’t risk suffocating in the sickly sweetness of the cotton candy. Perhaps that would be his demise tonight.
He steps to the first hole, filled to the brim as it was with reflections. And as he does, a hint of amusement dances at the corners of his lips.
---he chooses the path of mirrors.
there are many paths to tread
enfanir art
