There were parts of the swamp that never seemed inclined to let the sun light them. Perhaps the dense leaves of the towering trees prevented it; a shield of greenery that protected the world below -- whether it was in protection of the sun or the land underneath was impossible to decide. The lack of sunlight here made it murky with shadows and humidity seeped in like an unwelcome (but entirely accustomed) relative. Whispers said that this place was where many kin came to die. In her head, she called it a burial mound. But she wasn't here to die, that was a long way off for her.Unlike many of her outings, there was no reason or curiosity that had brought her here. It was hardly even the casual exploration she often took to. Instead it was unplanned and the mere thought of resting in thick shadows. She felt like being alone; that wasn't uncommon in itself but she rarely found herself acting on it.
She slid further into the shadows, felt at ease -- at home -- in the dark. There were peeping eyes that glowed hiding all around and that, too, was a comfort. It reminded her of being a filly and sneaking off into shadows or the night to frolic; it was freeing really. It helped, of course, that it was doubtful she'd find herself with company. She rarely ever seemed to find others who preferred darkness to sunlight.
Her thoughts fell idle the further in she went and her hoof came down on something hard, rounded. She stopped and leaned down, letting her hoof slide back and using the front tip to nudge the object forward. Maybe there was some truth from the whispers for before her was a bone. Interesting.