The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
There is no time to brace for impact, to prepare for the inevitable collision of two lost souls on an icy winter's eve. Milena's ear just has time to swivel towards the faint click of hoof on rock, muffled by drifts of snow, before she is assaulted by a rather small and compact creature who clearly has no concept of personal space. A startled, irritated whinny bursts from her lips as she stumbles to the side, dark wings flaring in an unconscious attempt to regain her balance, buffeting the bumbling idiot stranger as an unintentional side effect. When she finds herself solidly once more on all four hooves, Milena gathers herself to her full height, rounding on the poor soul who has wronged her so.
It is then that she finds herself speechless.
Even in the dark, she is dumbfounded by his beauty. Feathers in varying shades of green, blue, and yellow are all interwoven into a luxurious white mane draped perfectly along the side of his neck, framing an earnest, handsome face. She can’t quite make out the color of his body, but she can tell by the way it shimmers in the light reflected from the snow that she has never seen its like before. A long, dramatic tail drags in the snow behind him. She can’t quite make it out, but it appears to be a tail of long, intricate, colorful feathers. She wonders how on earth he keeps it clean.
He speaks to her, and his tone is so kind that she bites back the frigid words that had bubbled to her lips following their collision. It has been rare in recent months that she has found herself in the company of another equine; though she is loathe to admit it, she is starved for friendship. Perhaps, since his apology appears sincere, she can, as they say, forgive and forget his blunder.
She smiles tentatively, relaxing into a more inviting posture. ”I’m fine, thank you. Are you alright?” He doesn’t appear to be injured, but Milena supposes that he could have hurt himself just as easily as he could have hurt her. What was it he said? That he was lost in his own mind? ”I hope you were lost to happy thoughts,” she offers. It would be rude to outright ask what was so interesting that he did not see an entire equine in his path, but if he offers an explanation, she will happily listen.
Mask Image -- IgnisFatuusII
Poem Excerpt -- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
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