savannaslew

Flight Angel’s eyes slowly opened just as the first morning light filtered through the sheltering pines. The forest was cool, and hung with a wispy, rolling fog that made the shafts of sunlight dance in otherworldly haze. She slowly stirred to her feet, shaking off the dew with a quick twitch of her withers before heading out into the welcoming dawn. The noise that had awoken her echoed through the forest again, and as she broke through the brambles, her eyes laid upon a sight that she had only ever been told stories about as a foal. Walking towards her up the valley wall, was a small herd of horses. Flight Angel’s eyes widened