Post by devilinthedetails on Dec 18, 2020 6:49:30 GMT 10
Title: Wonder at the First Snowfall
Rating: PG
Prompt: Wonder
Summary: Wyldon's newest litter of puppies wonder at their first snowfall.
Wonder at the First Snowfall
There was a magic to the wonder of a young litter of pups at their first snowfall that couldn’t be exceeded by the spells the strongest mages in the realm cast, Wyldon thought as he watched his latest batch of puppies frolic in what was to them this strange, marvelous substance.
They snuffled in it until their snouts were powdered like a lady’s nose. They leapt and loped in it, burying themselves up to their midsections in it, and not carrying that the chests that housed all their vital organs were submerged in cold. They rolled, feet curling, in the drifts of fallen, frozen cloud, yapping blissfully. They lapped at it with their pink tongues as the Bazhir of the Great Southern Desert were said to lick their iced sherbets tinged with the exotic flavors and scents of rosewater, lemon, and hibiscus.
Their puppy joy was a mirror in which he could reflect on the childish sense of wonder he had once felt at each winter’s first snowfall. How he had reveled in crunching and stomping through it in his fur-lined boots. How he had taken such fierce pride in building tall snowmen and strong forts without considering how those snowmen and forts would inevitably crumble and collapse into shapeless nothing. How he had laughed throwing snowballs at his siblings and ducking the ones they lobbed at him. How he had savored the taste of snowflakes caught and melting on his extended snow. How it had felt to be wrapped like a gift in the silvery snow that gleamed like a mirror beneath the gray December sky.
Rating: PG
Prompt: Wonder
Summary: Wyldon's newest litter of puppies wonder at their first snowfall.
Wonder at the First Snowfall
There was a magic to the wonder of a young litter of pups at their first snowfall that couldn’t be exceeded by the spells the strongest mages in the realm cast, Wyldon thought as he watched his latest batch of puppies frolic in what was to them this strange, marvelous substance.
They snuffled in it until their snouts were powdered like a lady’s nose. They leapt and loped in it, burying themselves up to their midsections in it, and not carrying that the chests that housed all their vital organs were submerged in cold. They rolled, feet curling, in the drifts of fallen, frozen cloud, yapping blissfully. They lapped at it with their pink tongues as the Bazhir of the Great Southern Desert were said to lick their iced sherbets tinged with the exotic flavors and scents of rosewater, lemon, and hibiscus.
Their puppy joy was a mirror in which he could reflect on the childish sense of wonder he had once felt at each winter’s first snowfall. How he had reveled in crunching and stomping through it in his fur-lined boots. How he had taken such fierce pride in building tall snowmen and strong forts without considering how those snowmen and forts would inevitably crumble and collapse into shapeless nothing. How he had laughed throwing snowballs at his siblings and ducking the ones they lobbed at him. How he had savored the taste of snowflakes caught and melting on his extended snow. How it had felt to be wrapped like a gift in the silvery snow that gleamed like a mirror beneath the gray December sky.