The claws of winter were well and truly dug in deep, tearing through whatever warmth fur provided and gripping at the very bones of those beholden to its bite. Vidaar had slipped begrudgingly from the relative warmth of Sol’s lands, leaving in his wake a trail of sand and red dust. He was not disappointed the leave behind the realm of sand; he could feel it in the hair of his tail, clinging to the auburn of his fur and catching between his teeth. He might never have thought sand had a particular scent until he lost his sight but now he found it had this peculiar smell when collected in seas of red.
Vidaar daren’t stray too far from the edges of Solterra’s sun-baked deserts, as much as he despised admitting to himself that he might not be capable of finding his way back if he did. This new land however did not smell that much different from the desert, the aroma of sunburnt grass overpowering whatever perfume the other foliage might emit.
He felt grass tickle his ankles, short and dried as though it had withered beneath summer’s touch yet pressing resolutely up through the frost that crunched beneath his hooves. Here and there he felt bushes reach for his legs, scratching at the muscles as he pranced through the oblivion of his sightless eyes. He would not be surprised to find the skin broken in places as his frustration bled into his forceful movements, restless as the world sat in his darkness. Even as the sun shone far above, doing little to warm the winter air, he saw no light in the shadows of his vision.
It was perhaps mid-morning, though Vidaar had no way of truly telling, but the faint sounds of birdsong permeated the quiet and somewhere in the distance the stallion could have sworn his heard the bubbling of a river. His ears twitched, picking up the lazy buzz of a fly as he meandered through what he hoped was a large field.
Text “speech”
because the world is on fire
@/Dyzzie
