Morningside Cuesta awaken the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
All Welcome  March 17, 2018, 09:47 PM
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the girl stood still in the small copse that marked the meadow; motionless save for the flickering of her audits as they roved atop her skull. only a moment ago had she heard the steady rhythm of her friend's paws on snow, the lightness of which could only belong to togothey were faded now, her companion's soft promise to be back with a meal lingering still on her unsettled mind. witchhazel did not know if she would ever grow accustomed to the solitude in moments like these, and yet they were often and necessary. they grew thin under winter's blade, and the young woman knew distinctly that her friend was not as well as she let on. 

the sun was rising higher in the heavens; sky painted in pastels as all around birds began their chorus. fresh snow had dusted the wilds, leaving most everything seemingly untouched and new. the trees seemed as if lined with gold; the sun illuminating thin covers of ice that had accumulated on the worn trunks. the girl, of course, knew none of this; only that the thin, spindly shapes were trees, and the subtle golden hint must mean morning had finally come. 

it was why the coyote had waited so long to search for their meal; in the increasing light, shapes and forms became visible gradually. the girl seemed less afeared if the coyote left when her vision was somewhat restored by the dawning of day, and thus it had become their unspoken arrangement to part now. 

surrounded by nought but silence and bird calls, the girl moved slowly to perch atop her haunches. letting her scarred gaze flutter closed. it was hardly much use, anyways, and she could almost imagine that in these tranquil moments she could fade into the background, become part of the larger awakening that swept across the land. the stillness of motion and thought soothed her, yet still her auds remained pricked, catching here and again the tiny footfalls of prey and songbirds.