Not YetMid-winter, Year 760 of the New AgeMore Like This
Glenmore, The Glenwood; The King’s Glade
Frost nipped at the red doe’s fetlocks as she moved around, her muzzle buried in the snow as she searched for the grass that was hidden underneath the snow. It was perhaps weird for a glenmorian to search rather than just conjure food, but it simply wasn’t the same. There was something off about the grass that she could grow; it didn’t have the same taste nor the same feel. Not that it was bad per say; it was fine when need be, but as long as there was still grass to be found underneath the sea of white then she would not grow the grass herself, although she did allow herself to green the harshest and darkest bits.
Above her lazy clouds found their way across the sky where the sun was still visible and high. There were still hours left of this day, even if only cold ones. During the winter times she grew a rather thick coat though and felt little of th