Post by .Mushroom♥Cheshire; on Feb 7, 2012 9:29:19 GMT -5
Atticus
Water crashing down from a distance far futher then a horse could safely jump, spray in the air, lush grasses, the loud rumble of the falls loud enough that you could barely hear yourself think. It was no wonder that Atticus liked this place; any horse would react to the primal power of the waterfall, and he was no exception.
He did find it rather peaceful, which struck him as odd whenever he really thought about it. There was an energy to this place, and he'd've expected it to be harsh and unforgiving, like the falls themselves. Rather, he found it to be much more relaxing: perhaps, down below the falling water, it was calmer, or perhaps it was the mist the falls threw up- no doubt also the reason the grass grew so lushly here.
Whatever the reason, Atticus found this place drew him, no matter what the circumstances. As a colt, it had been the loudness, and he had enjoyed prancing across the grasses and giving his sweet mother a heart attack whenever he strayed too close to the water itself. As a younger stallion, he'd enjoyed the solace this place offered from his own raging horomones and his concerns with the herd- and recently, he simply enjoyed the quiet.
The only thing he really yearned for was company, but even that he wasn't terribly concerned about: horses would come, if they chose. He was hardly the only one who liked this place: it's magic seemed to be a universal language, calling to all of those willing to listen.
And he was certainly willing to listen. Atticus approached the edge of the pools at the base of the falls, lowering his head to the mist that finely covered the surface. It was pleasant and cool, and when he dipped his lips to the water to drink, it was sweet as well.
This was a good place.