Rainforest Cliffs
07-17-2017, 04:17 PM
Another is beneath the tree, and Gwyn comes upon her with surprise. She is an adult, which immediately raises flags within the filly’s mind (strangers, her parents called them), but she is a pretty one, marked with gold, like her father, with wings, like Arleigh. Arching her already graceful neck, Glacia’s daughter silently regards the stranger from a safe distance with luminous, pale blue eyes, her slight smile fluttering into a frown when she is tersely asked, are you lost?
She shakes her head no.
“I don’t think so,” she proudly but quietly states, turning her head to look upon the boy who has arrived among them. His hello is timid, unlike her well articulated greetings and words; though soft, and not overtly ostentatious, what Gwyn did say was said with firm conviction. The tenderness of the colt alongside her is interesting, and she spends a moment searching his face, as if there is something to be revealed there, other than he is handsome, and adorned with ivory and gold.
They all match, she notices, her lips tilting up; she is the darkest, and the boy brightest, while the sassy stranger is a blend of both.
“Gwyn,” she answers, “who are you?”
She shakes her head no.
“I don’t think so,” she proudly but quietly states, turning her head to look upon the boy who has arrived among them. His hello is timid, unlike her well articulated greetings and words; though soft, and not overtly ostentatious, what Gwyn did say was said with firm conviction. The tenderness of the colt alongside her is interesting, and she spends a moment searching his face, as if there is something to be revealed there, other than he is handsome, and adorned with ivory and gold.
They all match, she notices, her lips tilting up; she is the darkest, and the boy brightest, while the sassy stranger is a blend of both.
“Gwyn,” she answers, “who are you?”
