Hello to the sweet green sea! (Lanty/Open)

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Sleep was a precious thing, and moreso to a wanderer; when Maldwyn had lived comfortably amongst his herd of birth, he had not valued it enough. It was easy to overlook something so simple when so young, surounded by family and the safety provided by a large and well-maintained herd; when left to one's own devices, sleeping in the wilderness was harder and less secure. There were predetors, of course, and the constant potential danger of other horses-- though by inclination Maldwyn prefered to give strangers the benefit of the doubt. There was also the pressure of traveling by daylight (or, in desert, at night), and the strictness of that schedule was far more compelling than any artificially imposed by training and rollcalls in his previous home.

Thus, as a wanderer, Mal found himself doing something he'd've never done as a colt in his homeland: rising early, before the sun. There was a strange peace to it; the world was soft-edged, in those small hours before the sun rose. The world was coated in dew, slightly chilly from the several hours bereft of naturally lighting, whih was literally warm (particularly when you were a black-coated stallion, whose soft fur absorbed every ounce of heat the sun put out). As light rose slowly, staining the sky soft yellows and peaches, color would slowly leech back into the world. It was lovely to behold, and twice-so here, in this strangely picturesque land in which Mal found himself.

He'd reached this territory late at night, but the sky had been clear and the night fairly warmish, as it was properly into spring now. He'd thus wandered late, and hadn't got a good look at these territories he'd found himself in- something he was rectifying now. Indeed, as light and color spread itself back over the world, he was finding these apparently-plain-looking grasslands to be a riot of blues and greens and other colors, speckled in the distance with moving dots that were probably deer-- healthy herds, large ones, but ones that kept their distance from him, a stranger and a tresspasser in these lands.

"Antigone!" he breathed, as he absorbed this sight properly for the first time, moments after waking. The small pressure on his back that his white raven, who-- from the sounds of her drowsy croak-- had still been sleeping, shifted its weight. "Look, sweet girl. This place is beautiful!"

It was, and Antigone probably agreed, but at this hour of morning the white raven was less inclined to admire the surroundings and more inclined to drowse grumpily. She stretched her wings out and then hopped up the gentle slope of his back, coming to settle on his shoulders, ignoring the dark haze that rose from there as she blinked owlishly around in the growing light.

PINN ツ