[=darkgreen]

Today, I ran into Sage. I had promised during the recent fit of rains that on the next time I should see her when the sun was bright, she and I would go feather-hunting. She wants a collection like the one her mother apparently had, and I felt it in my duty to help. Besides a fun way to while away the time.

So when we met, after the briefest moment of indecision (she and I are alike, I think, in that we both wait for the other to act), we set off. We circled around and around the trees, trying to spot a bird's nest or where one rested for a moment, perhaps dropping a feather here or there. We brushed against the bark time after time, circling. The sunlight and the airy nature of our quest had us bounding, my heart soaring, my steps bucking and skipping against the shimmering surface of the land. The path of light and the path of birdsong were one, and we wished to catch the place where both fell to earth.

I rather want to write a poem about it, once the words stop swirling around and become pinnable, collectable like a fallen feather, drifting down… And for the light that came on her face when I spotted one, a white dove feather cradled in the roots of the trees. It made the air sweet, her smile, our ectstatic gasps of surprise: we had both gone looking, but not expected to find. We hopped into the birch forest, hoping to see another, since the birds were thick in the air and darting around the ground, flashing their red or blue-tinted wings. As they flitted underfoot, at the foot of a birch, we found the feather of a red-winged blackbird, fallen from a nest in the high treetops. This was added to her collection, and as we scampered, giddy in our success, towards De Drinkplaats.

We found no feathers, but chased each other as squirrels and bathed in the fountain, darting in and out of the little hidden overlay in the back, hiding there with our whiskers touching.

tf2durr
deerfortress?
heh.

Be safe.

for some reason I can't comment on stuff or reply to anyone on here! so if you feel like you're being ignored by me or something IM SORRRYYYYYYYY i'm having a bit of problems with this stuff > 3 <
sooo yeeeaahh.... i might be replying to some stuff in blogs just not how you guys normally comment and reply and stuff (( I FEEL SOOO STUPID *shot dead* ))

How sneezing without removing anything of your set?

And how deer head to be attentive in one place without any movement?

I've seen several deer making it and I like to learn ^ ^

If you know more things like these, could tell it me? Thanks a lot!

Okay guys I have some bad news. School starts tomorrow, and I will have a vey busy life for nine months. I will try to get on three times a week at least on the community, and once in the forest if I'm lucky. I will miss being able to do whatever I want and sleeping till noon. *sigh*

Leaves danced on the summer breeze, and alighted on the tip of a little nose. Mitsuki giggled, going cross-eyed in an attempt to look at what had landed on her nose. Shaking it off, she pranced back into the shade inside the Great Oak, offering Stormchaser the dandelion she had picked for him. Instead of letting him take the flower from her, she leapt onto a root nearby and climbed up farther inside the tree, stopping when she was high enough to scrabble onto his back.

Giving him a playful stomp that contained approximately the strength of a falling leaf, she tucked the flower in his mane, wobbling as she wove its stem into the long fur that hung down from his neck. She almost fell off, catching herself just in time, but she ended up straddling his nose. Giving another little giggle, she slid off, landing with a huff as the ground knocked the wind out of her.

“I have to go find more flowers,” she declared purposefully, darting out of the Great Oak. She would be back.

This time she headed for the Crying Idol, picking as many poppies as she could carry. The little black doe returned to Stormchaser with her blue eyes sparkling. She wove the crimson flowers into his tail, reddish blooms in a sea of darkness. He only looked on with amusement, pausing now and then to examine her handiwork as she flitted in and out of sight. When he moved to lie down, she head butted him, teasing him about almost sitting on his flowers.

“And here I thought this was going to be a picnic,” he said, eyes glinting mischievously.

“It is, silly!” She disappeared once more, returning in the blink of an eye with a basket. She dragged it through the entrance of the oak. It was woven from reeds, rounded at the bottom, with no lid and a handle at the top. It was nearly as big as Mitsuki. Berries of every possible color and an array of edible plants and herbs filled the basket.