Law, ú dollen i Rîw. Anírach, nui lû, gwannad uin gwaith lín?
[[No, the winter hasn't come. Do you wish, before the time, to leave your people?]]
Mornië alantië
[[Darkness has fallen (down)]]
The melodic phrase of the earth that day was low, and the joy that the leaves danced in thus suffered. They trembled delicately, long, dry whisps of leather that were patched and frayed under the blistering sun. Summer had finally arrived, after the long, un-settled days of spring. And the creatures were stirring, finally euphoric enough to look outside of their homes and burrows. After all, summer could change back to spring in a glance. It was like that every year. Each day except for the very core of winter and the warmer months was vagrant-like. But then again! Oh, so many frolicked out to enjoy what sunshine they could whilst the weather remained so, and even creatures riddled with greif managed to find a smile. And the equus, equus which roamed the plains were no diverse. Infact, they perhaps more then others found joy in sunbathing. Young ones pranced around their proud dams, carefully watched-over by their dominant males. The cycle of life, yes? Out and about in the summertime, enjoying themselves. Ah, but this, this leads us to the beginning of our tale.It was around mid-day, and the dew had faded from the flimsy rod-like reeds that were called 'snowgrass', thus signalling the sun's full rise. The paperbarks stood tall, welcoming the fragrant breeze that smelled vaguely of flowers, which had finally decided to make an appearance. It was the atmosphere infact, that was not intended for what would happen next; the entrance of a equus. Ah, but the terrain breathed a sigh of relief and went along it's way.. for another horse to add to the collection was nothing new. Perhaps. And yet, one must ponder, if there ever was a reason to anticipate her arrival. After all, the bush never lied.
She was a mare, a dark, tall mare. Her entrada was made silently; through the curtain of tea-trees which hid her natural body imbue well, and only her eyes stood out. Twin pools of dusk, with hundreds of different tales to tell. And yet, once out into the sunshine, one must not have failed to notice something.. different; a stance? The way she held herself? Like a million different doves supported her gait? No, not that. Perhaps it was the imperial way her eyes sweeped the landscape? No, no, alas, this went further then through the first flimsy look.. And so, she entered.. cushioned movements still entangling a sense of speed, for in reality, she was flying, keeping her nigh gates even on the roughest of coverings. Gradually, however, the watercolor backdrop stopped moving, and she stood, silent, dark, and yet; something more..
Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na ngalad.
[[Hear my voice, come back to the light.]]
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