Alyssum had left her normal forest home in favor of a meadow, and if anyone had seen her frolicking, they would have sworn that she had somehow reverted to her foal years. Running alone, she enjoyed the slight whipping of the taller grasses, while carefully avoiding thorn-filled sticker bushes. She bounded after the grasshoppers that leapt in her path before becoming distracted by the dazzling array of flowers that filled the area.
The chocolate mare approached these blossoms, some pale as the moon, some capturing the blue of the sky, the vibrant orange, pinks, purples of the setting sun, and she began to breathe in their aroma, her cream tail moving in a subtle, sideways manner. Could anything be better than this, this simple pleasure?
