Nightingale was no spring foal. She had seen her share of towns and villas, springing up wherever there was magic to be tapped into and clean grazing to be had. Her life had been spent flitting from one to the next, never staying long enough to lose her welcome, always leaving just as her web of tricks was being untangled by the unfortunate fly in the middle. She had seen cities on the edges of deserts, full of bright beauty and delicate jewelry, with spiky, inedible looking fruits that held the gods nectar inside of them. She had climbed the narrow paths of mountainside towns, where strong stallions competed for mares by bringing up pure ores from the heart of the mountain, and young colts played games of tag like billy goats- springing from rock to rock on the dangerous cliffs. Once, the canny mare had even been to a quiet, secret place, a village in the deep of a sacred forest, where a young stallion had led her in hopes of winning her affection. It had been beautiful and quiet, and so trusting that they practically let her walk out with everything on their backs.But those... Those cities were small game compared to this bustling village. Even from the edge of the forest, she could see the population of the place, so busy that it would take weeks to even see everyone that lived here. So innocent, so naive, such easy prey for a wily mare. Her flank twitched in anticipation, her hooves shifting in the loamy earth as if they wanted to prance about like a youngling. However, her outward appearance remained otherwise calm and collected. You didn't get what you wanted by being impatient and easy to read. A small smile graced her delicate features, before she shook out her mane and stepped delicately through the trees, following their shadows around the edge of the forest until she came into the village.
At first, it seemed that no one noticed her, but as she moved gracefully down the street, Night noticed more and more eyes falling on her. Giving no outward sign of noticing anyone, she paused at a lovely little carving in the middle of a cross-street, pretending to admire the craftsmanship. In reality, she was waiting for her first bit of prey to come by. Now the only question was… what game should she play this time? The shy newcomer? The strong lead? The seductress? Hm, choices, choices…
