The 23 of August. Antlerdoe.



There she was again. Painting.
Her little bowls of wood sat still as death in the candlelight.
The vivid paint glistining like wax just on the surface,
inside of them.
The rough, rough cave walls, where she had painted
so many times before... it was grey, as before.
She picked up the black ink like paint in one hoof,
then placed her other one the stone.
There she was again. Painting.
Only painting this time wat she hopes to become.
What she will become.


This is my little fawn Selkie! (Not the one in my icon picture)