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milliways_bar2005-07-26 11:36 pm
red-mare.livejournal.com) wrote in milliways_bar2005-07-26 11:36 pm
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Springs were always an interesting time in the Hallow Hills. Once, equinox had been the time of Pilgrimage, the slipping away of half-growns and a handful of warriors from the Vale across the Great Grass Plain to brave the wyvern territories for a night's vigil beside the sacred pool. With the Hills won back, spring had become instead a time of stories, of dances and of tales sung. Even among the Plainsdwellers, who had no desire to enter the Hills for the most part, felt that change in the air.
Jah-lila was often on the Plain in spring, bringing such tales of the Moondancers as the Free Folk of the Plain might best appreciate. Though she rarely spoke of it to any, she had become quite fond of what others saw as a kind of roving exile; one could not forever be the herd's midwife and wych, after all! With the last of the spring's foals dropped, she took leave of her daughter Tek and slipped away through the milkwood grove, thinking to stretch her legs with a long and proper run in search of some Plainsdweller band.
When she stepped through the last of the trees, the smell that came to her nostrils was not that of the Plain. She threw up her head and whistled in alarm. The wrong grass, the wrong beasts- she smelled daya right enough, and that meant-
Yes. There.
The two-legged race of her youth in the City of Fire.
Ears slanted back, horn lowered, she stepped out of the woods and looked warily about.
Jah-lila was often on the Plain in spring, bringing such tales of the Moondancers as the Free Folk of the Plain might best appreciate. Though she rarely spoke of it to any, she had become quite fond of what others saw as a kind of roving exile; one could not forever be the herd's midwife and wych, after all! With the last of the spring's foals dropped, she took leave of her daughter Tek and slipped away through the milkwood grove, thinking to stretch her legs with a long and proper run in search of some Plainsdweller band.
When she stepped through the last of the trees, the smell that came to her nostrils was not that of the Plain. She threw up her head and whistled in alarm. The wrong grass, the wrong beasts- she smelled daya right enough, and that meant-
Yes. There.
The two-legged race of her youth in the City of Fire.
Ears slanted back, horn lowered, she stepped out of the woods and looked warily about.