Mount Apikuni don't go out tonight

it is as if the winds had teased her up and down the valley, pulling and pushing until she'd lodged up in the rock. here, their reaching fingers and whispered words could not reach her, and here did she remain as the sun settled low. she was subservient to the wills of winds and trails, and yet could not help but find contents in the mountain nook she'd taken up in. 

frail body unfurls and moves like a rippling banner to poke her muzzle out of the crack in the rock; the chatter of quails bring tufted ears to sweep forwards. it is not them she spots but him, lain out on the ledge just in front of her crack as if it is his. it is, now, and she will not contest it; withdrawing so that only her muzzle peeks through the crack in the rock; falling motionless and soundless. she is well versed in that art of seeing unseen, and she will remain this way until the ink-stained stranger noticed the pewter irregularity in the rockface.