Gentle rolling hills covered in a cape of worn dead grass swept across the landscape, occasional lines of eerie pines rising tall and scraping at the sky with arms clothed in layers of darkened needles that fluttered in the slightest breeze. Bright blue sky shone brilliantly down, casting shades of light over the land and adding reflections to things that normally weren't reflective. Clouds like that in cartoons, puffy and large, swelling like they're about to burst yet looking as soft and comfortable as cotton candy swarmed in the atmosphere above. The winds were a comfortable gust, not too hard but just right, the sort that would catch one's locks and toy with them in the air before releasing and letting the silky strands slide back down and through their fingers once more.

Petite hooves danced lithely over the emerald blades, their pink surface skimming gently and lifting once more at such a quick pace it would seem one was flying and never once touching the ground. Muscles rolled smoothly down slim and slender white legs, nostrils flared large enough to show a bit of pink flesh, delicate ears pricked forth and swiveling alertly. Lengthy locks danced on ends, a mixture of whites and browns, dancing with the slender fingers of the wind that teased each strand so freely. Brown splashed over the petite white build, creating smooth spots that blended seamlessly with the pelt. Rounded haunches fell into a cascading tail that dragged the ground a few feet, dirtied at the end from the particles that clung. Neck arched, with a dished Arabic skull poised toward a white chest, muzzle pointed to the hells, two icy blue eyes peering out beneath a rolling white forelock.

The general appearance was, without a doubt, one who would be thought of as a light, but appearances are deceiving. The act of playing the unknown and one who was hiding something was over and long gone, part of my past. A slight snort escaped my muzzle; one thing was for sure, my painted and scarless hide to the liquid grace of my limbs would never change, and I guess I'm okay with that. After all, it's who I am. But the personality, very bitter to those who aren't expecting it. One would seem to think that I was gentle and friendly, the perfect mare to add to a collection, until I let my voice show through. Hey, even my name's misleading. Those who are well trained enough could easily pick up on the dead giveaways of one who was a murderer in my past. Those who could would be able to handle me, those who couldn't...

Let's just say they wouldn't be lucky. One should be well trained in life not to make foolish mistakes, to misjudge, jump without looking, answer without thinking it. Everything has consequences. Everything has chances. To live, you must be willing to take chances, but wise enough to accept consequences and prepare for them. For a light stallion to approach me and attempt at small talk would have consequences not yet known to even myself, it all depends on the situation. A slight smirk tugged at the corners of my plush muzzle, movements ceasing in the middle of a clearing. Yes. Consequences. So, all that seems to be left is to wait and see what it is, and who it is that decides to cross my path, set foot in my life, and ultimately change the course of theirs in the process.