This is a PRP involving a series of solo entries about The Dawn of Twilight's mare Malumë.
[Teepee Link]
[Teepee Link]
The black mare peeked at the sky, trying to track the progress of the sun across the sky... and failed miserably.
There were too many many trees, blocking her view; she was unable to see all angles, unable to spot where the sun was despite the light that illuminated her passing.
Oh well.
With a shrug, she broke into a high-spirited trot, lifting her legs high and proud, her carefully coifed mane bouncing merrily as she went.
She giggled, the sound one of pure joy.
The two-leggeds had been utterly thrilled to have such a willing subject, though Malumë had mostly let them do what they were out of curiosity and not some form of complacency. The treats that were so readily offered to her sniffing nose were quite welcome, though sometimes she was just trying to figure out what they were doing and wasn't really asking for a treat at all.
Apples, and little puffs of delicious sugar, carrots and even little clumps of grass that the younger children had set their minds to gathering for her. She could graze on her own, of course, but she figured that they were trying to keep her still for their elder siblings and the others who had their hands buried in her luscious locks.
She had only left their encampment two nights ago, but her hair seemed to be holding up nicely. A few curls had come loose, which she frowned at- not that her hair was done up so nicely, she rather liked it. It bounced, it moved, all on its own- not just by the wind's will.
Slowing to a walk, she tilted her head to one side, thinking about her unnatural preference.
When long and loose, her mane was allowed to move when something bid it so, tugged by the wind or let to lay still at will. Her tail had dragged slightly behind her, and her mane had often tickled the last curve of her shoulder before the gentle slope melted into her leg. Now, the locks were tucked up high, and the curl seemed to absorb much of her strands' natural length. But, she also liked the feel of the wind in her long unadorned mane, and this... style... seemed almost to resist every breath of the air.
She supposed, in the end, that she liked her mane like this because... well... because it meant that someone had cared for her, dotted on her, and been so warm and welcoming.
Smiling, she sighed happily. She had friends, here, in these new lands, even if they were of the two-legged sort.
Springing back into a trot, she moved forwards with renewed vigor.
What else could these lands have in store?