On the Grounds
It was cold out, which was hardly shocking for February. Theo's breath condensed in little clouds in front of him before slowly dissapating in the late afternoon sun. The grounds were peaceful, quiet and empty in this weather, and Theo adjusted his cloak slighty as he walked along the border of the forest. An owl swooped by overhead, a letter on its leg, and a little ways in front of him Theo could see that some of the thestral herd had made their way out on to the snow-covered grass, nosing at the quickly cooling meat that had been left for them.
He supposed it was odd, but he was rather fond of the thestrals.
He supposed it was odd, but he was rather fond of the thestrals.