Strange dreams

The evening air was cool and crisp, the kind that almost hurts your throat, but not quite. The sun's influence had long left the sky and it was now dotted with shining specks. A deep glowing moon lay fat and nestled among the sky's black silk. An owl perched somewhere above, calling to it's mate. The grass was cold and on the edge of dewy. A band of horses stood silently, billows of stream circling from their breath. Some stood, whilst others lay to sleep, snoring quietly. There was very little threat in this sheltered valley so they felt safe together. The finer coated cobs snuggled with the fluffy ones for warmth, an exchange they also enjoyed. On the edge of the group a very fuzzy bay mare stood under a birch tree. She lent her soft rump against the tree, lifting a rear black hoof in relaxation. Dappled moonlight cascaded through the leaves, painting the mare like a fluffy seal. Her tail swished lightly and her muzzle twitched as she dozed. Above her an owl emerged from the trunk of the tree. It seemed to go through a morning routine, stretching, preening and cleaning it's foot. Once awake the bird gave a shrieking call. Startled awake, the little mare gave a loud snort. Planting her tan and grey hooves in the moss under the tree. Her heart thudded in her chest. The fight or flight instinct itching to take over. The other cobs all turned to look at her, a few nickered to check she was alright. She finally looked to the noise. Staring back down at her was the biggest pair of deep dark eyes, enveloped in spiralling cream feathers. She tipped her blazed muzzle up to the bird, allowing it's scent to fill her throat. She recognised the smell, or lack of it. With that she was sure it was harmless; to the mice running in the field the owl was not, but to her it was. Her heart slowed and a sense of neutrality fell over her. It was oddly comforting to be watched over. She gave the owl one last glance over, before looking back out to the group. They had all gone back to their sleeping or snuggling. She lipped, trying to return to a sense of coziness. Leaning forward gently, she eased herself down onto the moss beneath her. Folding her feathered legs under the white barrel of her belly. Flicking her black thread like tail over her hocks, not that they needed extra cover. She yawned, her teeth clacking together quietly. She lipped again, her eyes becoming heavy. Her ears swivelled to the gentle blowing of horses snoring, rocking her into tiredness. Her head too was becoming as heavy as her eyes. She rested her jaw on the thick soft silvery roots of the birch tree, her nose picking up the comforting earthy smell of moss and petrichor. Her breathing deepened. Her amber fur keeping her soft and warm, her own built-in blanket. She slipped into sleep. She sides gently swaying. Her eyelids danced as she dreamt of flying. 

She soared over pink cotton clouds, wings of white feathers stretched out beside her. Her black hair flowed over her shoulders and out behind her like streamers. She could feel the warm breeze between each feather, and the strength of her bones as she flapped. She tucked her legs up beneath herself as she'd seen the owls do, feeling the wind dance over her knees. She closed her eyes and wiggled her nose gleefully. Nearing a puff of vapor, she carefully leant her shoulder and wing to the side. Gliding elegantly over to it. She just wanted to skim it, to feel it's softness. It felt like the woolies of another pony, soft and warm. From the corner of her eye she spotted a cream blur. It was the owl! She whinnied loudly to them and flapped vigorously to catch up. She flew up underneath them and pushed them up with her broad forehead. The owl dipped below her, before popping up behind her, giving a playful grab at her side. She bucked happily and tried to mimic their dip. Pulling her wings tightly to her two toned sides and arching her head like she was jumping. She shot down. Accelerating quickly. It felt like galloping and jumping over trees, stealing fruits from your herd mates and running from them. She reopened her wings, the rush of wind inflating them quickly, her hair tumbling over her ears and neck. It took her quite a few flaps to return to the owl. They glided together, having a few playful twirls. Happily shrieking and whinnying into the pastel blue sky. 

Her wings began to ache. She looked to the owl and descended to a soft cloud. Her hooves grazed it's fuzziness, landing firm. It was beautifully soft. Immediately it washed a relaxing feeling over her. She dropped to her knees and rolled in it's velvetines. It smelt sweet; of flowers and strawberries. The owl perched on a mound of cloud above her, watching her roll around gleefully. She turned over to her side and the cloud cupped her body. She breathed deeply as she felt herself melt off to sleep.