(Untitled)

[ofthatantet]

There's no real sun here, just a bright spot in the glowing green canopy of leaves. Beneath them, Rose rides through her dreams, galloping down paths twisting and narrow and somehow each unique. She's in a hurry to see where it goes, even if it gets dark.

This is a place of branching paths, of a million ifs, where the leafs brush against each

Comments

[sai_delgado]

It's a strange place, oh aye. Stranger still, mayhap, here among the shadows and the dust, to hear a second set of hoofbeats pounding, off down a path to the side.

[ofthatantet]

Strange, but not as strange as she would have found it once. Dreams are funny things.

She steers herself off her course, following the sound out of simple curiosity.

[sai_delgado]

It's a tricksome sound to follow, or maybe it's just the air here. The sound deepens and then stretches thin

(but not as thin as it might in some places)

and fades away before reappearing-- once to the left, then again from the right, but always ahead, always drawing the listener on.

And then all at once it's gone, caught up and carried away in a sudden loud rush of (ka like a) wind through the trees.

When the rustle of leaves fades to quiet, there's naught ahead but an empty road--

--or then again, mayhap it's not an empty road, after all.

[ofthatantet]

"Hey!" She checks the horse, and waves to the girl by the side of the road; she's half-invisible in the twilight, but Rose has been learning what her eyes are for. "Hi."