 The creek was born from a river, as most were. Having followed the bend of the water along its natural path, the youth arrives upon the babbling scene of the Rapax and pauses to drink in its beauty. The silver water bends through the earth, leaping and dancing over boulders, and spilling in small falls. Shimmering in the cool race of the river are fish, occasionally leaping upwards and shining in the sun, before they return to the water. Gently touched by the passing of a breeze, the maiden sighs in contentment, feeling the mist of the river land in dew drops upon her face, and the rippling length of her milky mane. Her toed hooves begin to move after a moments reverence, stepping gingerly between the stones lining the riverbed, to allow her to draw closer to the swiftly moving water. Giggling as the crisp water envelopes her ankles and tugs headily at her submerged limbs, the tree-marked youth makes her way towards a section of the water that seems deeper than the rest. With a gasp as the water is suddenly about her lower chest and the very bottom bow of her belly, the girl quickly rises up with breathless laughter at her impulsive decision, her long tail drifting along the water behind her, and eventually streaming liquid down to the earth below, as the maiden bounds back onto the river bed. Glad to be cooled but not quite glad enough to remain in the water, the girl looks out across this side of the river, now that she finds herself here, and finds an open stretch of hill-laden meadow that spans between two groves; this natural road is most alluring. Her ears lift upwards, and her pale green eyes curiously search what little she can see over the rise and fall of the landscape, and, as she often does, the girl asks of the air: "I wonder what’s beyond those hills?" With a passion for us we could not return? If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me. |
Image Credits | Table
@Akeli
