Sleepy Fox Hollow the fruits

AW!

sundown stands alone in the hollow, her coat a mix of dusky reds and golds, fading with the light of the setting sun. she grazes with an air of quiet defiance, her head low but her posture unyielding, as if the world around her could bend and break, but she would remain unchanged.

she flicks her tail, swatting at the persistent flies, her ears swiveling at every sound, but she does not acknowledge them. not yet. she pulls another mouthful of grass from the earth, unhurried. the wind tugs at her mane, but she does not move, eyes distant, as if the world outside this quiet moment is just out of reach.

in the stillness, there is something lonely in her, but also something free.

The scent of the herd is here- but the yearling spotted only one mare grazing in the open. Silverbirch appraised the grazing- optimal here, where the sun began to summon verdant new blades from beneath the yellowed strands of the last year.

So she grazed along the fringe of the clearing, ambivalent to the presence of the other, though she was not experienced enough yet in the art of being coy; one ear often flicked toward the other, and she would glance over whenever she lifted her head to chew. 

Curious yet considerate.