Winter Chill

     It had been a few weeks since she had last seen Moe. The days were getting shorter while the weather dropped below freezing temperatures. Sitting solemnly by the frost stained window, resting her growingly heavy head on a clenched fist. A warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders, as she turned to her desk.

     Picking up the disheveled journal and carefully opening it. The first handful of pages were filled with messy pencil sketches of countless horses. Some were her own, Knox and Speakeasy as they were great models, and some of ponies she had tied her ribbon to before. Flipping to an empty page, Evelyn pressed her worn pencil to the rough paper.

     Hours passed and Evelyn was still sitting at her desk doing multiple different doodles of Moe. At this point she had him memorized from the tips of his ears to the end of his tail. Scratching the pencil along the paper, she drew one last portrait of him. His bright expression filled the page and she gave a tired smile. Closing her journal Evelyn finally went to sleep, only to dream about this buckskin pony some more.

Moe.

     Powdery snow covered the landscape, weighing down the branches of b trees that laid bare. Growing an impressive winter coat, Moe was rather warm and felt peaceful. Trudging through the deep snow, he sought coverage in the under canopy of the pine trees. Shaking off the snow that accumulated on his back and neck, Moe continued on a bit further. Leaving an ever growing deep trail, his tail dragged on the snow behind him.

     Soft snowflakes fell from the sky again, but without the determination as before. The wind chilled the air, but no malice was found. Dark clouds covered the dimming sun and Moe knew it was time to find somewhere to rest. He traveled past trees, rocks, and cliffs. Nothing had met his standards yet. Rounding a hill, a large tree sat before him, mini,a, snow covered the ground and most of the wind was blocked. Pawing at the frozen ground, Moe plopped down. A loud grunt, stretching his legs, and then pulling them back towards his stomach finalized his routine.

Weeks Later.

    The snow melted and birds began singing. Spring was here, and so was his time out in his winter pasture. The thundering sound of hooves and jingling bells echoed throughout the hills, ponies made their way back to the stables. Some had ribbons still braided in while others returned unclaimed. Evenlyn was eagerly leaning against the fence post, trying her hardest to see any familiar faces. Her face lit up when he cantered over the hill; however, she was unable to see if the ribbon remained.