Hidalgo had roamed far in his time, though mainly his feet had always lead him back to the plains; the place where he had run most free. He guessed it was the wide-open spaces that were the greatest lure for him. He could see for miles, and the wind almost always tasted of grass. Snow it tasted of water and cold, and he had been around enough to know that winter would end, no mater how long it seemed to go on. The snow would melt, the grass would grow, the rivers would run, and the flowers would bloom. The small animals would come out of hiding, and the birds would return, and the plains would be as full of life as they were last year, and the year before that, and before that. It wouldn't last forever.He held a mouthful of show and felt it quickly melt. There was one good thing about winter. The water was the freshest it ever was. Spring thaw always left it muddy, And high summer left it thick and almost bracken with how low it became, and how slowly it flowed. If there was one good thing about winter, he could most certainly say it was the water in the snow. He grabbed a few more mouthfuls, sating his thirst, and gave himself a good shake, dislodging any snow that had gathered on his back. It felt like a blanket at night, keeping him relatively warm as the temperature dropped, but he had to get rid of it relatively quickly in the morning before it started melting, or it would soak him through completely, and then he was really cold. He didn't know how many had died because they hadn't removed their 'blankets', he being one of them as a foal.
He continued on his way, heading for an outcropping of rock that he had used may times as a snow shield if the wind blew that way, or a place for finding grass that wasn't completely dead and frozen through. There was a small forest of trees there as well that kept the ground slightly warmer, that also helped with the grass. He didn't know why the trees ranomly grew there in that area. They just did; an island in the sea of grass. He had spent much time there as he had grown, and even now as a stallion he called the place home.
The snow around him turned from the blue of night, to a pale golden-red as the sky started to change colors. The sun was starting to rise, and soon, day would be here. A new day, and a day closer to when the snow would melt, and the grass would be abundant again. The days always varied in how long it took, but he felt the sun growing warmer on his at each rising, and soon, the snow would begin to melt. For now, though, he stopped and watched as the snow blazed golden-red, looking as though the surface were on fire. The intense colors lasted several long heartbeats, before he was surrounded by bright white and blue shadows; his silouetee long and blue on the snow. The sun had finally risen. One day closer.
