He stood against the brisk winter wind, dark mane rippling about, the braids that forsaken two-legger had put in his mane tapping him on the neck with every movement. Freakin' annoying is what it was. Winter was beautiful in all of its crystalline white glory...but it was cold. He bristled against the breeze, turning away and lipping at a strand of grass that peeked from a white dune.
And Gypsy Winter, like his namesake, was beautiful: a fine-boned little stallion, his pelt was the teal of a peacock feather, as he was from an equally flashy family. And don't get him wrong: Winter loved his family. They were family, after all, but they were so...
Happy.
Ugh, talk about freakin' annoying. His little sisters were all hoity-toity, happy with their meaningless little lives, and Winter was the little black sheep.
"Little bo peep, come blow your horn," he muttered with a sigh. The truth was, as solitary as he was, it was...lonely. Not that he'd admit it, but companionship would be nice. Especially if said horse was beautiful...
His lips curved into a smile. Beautifully mutated.
