And now that it was winter, she didn't feel like doing anything. The cold was inescapable, a constant piece of discomfort that seemed to follow her wherever she went. She'd visited the coast, a mountain, and now the plains, farther north than she'd ever traveled thus far, and yet it remained steadily chill no matter the location she tried.
"Stupid cold... Won't go away..." A series of irritably mumbled phrases rolled from the young mare's muzzle out into the snowy plains, taking the shape of wispy fog before being scattered into the chilly air. "So much snow... Miss the green..." Phoebe moved rigidly along, her steps a little higher than necessary, as if she might suddenly step right up and out of the snow if the means presented itself. "Can't wait for spring..." Her neck was curled and her chin tucked, allowing her long, colorful mane to cover as much of her neck and side as it could. Oh, how she wished for a thicker coat!
Stopping, Phoebe took another second to survey her surroundings, and as before saw nothing that would provide any sort of shelter from the elements. Her breath escaped her in a heavy, "Hmph," an expression of her annoyance, though the sting slowly lessened into something closer to sadness. This wasn't at all how she'd hoped things would go, and she had no one to blame but herself.
Her sunset-colored sides twitched as she made a guilty little shuffle in place before continuing to travel along. She wasn't going to find where she belonged if she stayed frozen in place--and if she did, she figured it would become less of a metaphor and more of a reality.
