Dahozhoni Meadow Wirbelwind

They voyaged to the south, their arrival in the region heralded by a loud cough from Frolic. They still came every so often, as dry as they were loud. The child had long since stopped paying them much attention. She felt fine otherwise and, besides, there were much more interesting things to capture her fascination.

The sisters came to a stop at the edge of a colorful meadow, for instance, and Frolic marveled. Behind them, the trees of Haunted Wood flared in half a dozen bold, seasonal hues. Ahead of them, the colors were bright to the point of neon. Sprinkled in with the classic greens and golds were bursts of ultraviolet purple and even pink.

At Ceridwen’s prompt, Frolic sniffed the air. Then her nose dropped as her tail lifted. She began combing hither and thither across the meadow, roving through its splendor with all her senses open. Sometimes the grass gave way to pebbles painted in all the hues of the desierto florido.

Frolic halted and raised her head to glance back at Ceridwen, proclaiming, I never wanna go back!

She laughed, coughed, then broke into a trot rapidly accelerating toward a gallop, very much looking the part of a wild filly.