For Damewindhunde/Sighthoundlady. :3

FOR THE RECORD, there is no scanner on earth that can do this justice. I used metallic ink and glittering reflective markers to make things like Farfalla's wings glisten and DaNeth's face fairly glow and even the rose glitter. However, the scanner makes it all flat and lifeless.

Sadface.

ANYWAYS. There are three viewpoints here, so three stories to tell.

DaNeth:

Everything looked smaller from above. Up in the sky he could easily see for miles around, watching the miniature-looking world in all it's doings.

Something glinted and caught his eye. A rose...in the mouth of an unusual white mare. Interesting.

Interesting things demanded further inspection. He swooped lower, to see if the rose was just that, nothing more than a flower torn from it's home in the bush, carried for some purpose or another, or perhapse it would prove more important, more magical, than that.

He swooped ever lower, ignoring the gray pony and, for the most part, the mare. The rose was the thing.

Farfalla:

Leading a blind pony may have seemed daunting, but the idea to lead him with the scent of a rose had worked wonderfully. It didn't matter how rough the terrain got, she didn't have to worry that he'd keep up so long as she kept the rose with her.

Such a beautiful flower.

With a sudden, leathery whoosh, a dark shape came far too close for comfort. It seemed to focus on her face...no, the rose. With a snort, she took off at a gallop, to evade the skeletal face snapping for the rose.

A small pile of rocks, fallen onto the road the year before and tangled with weeds, blocked her path. Without a thought, she leapt cleanly over it, causing the dark winged creature to miss by mere inches.

The chase was on!

Gallowspony:

A world of smells. Rose, mare, road, weeds, trails used by other things, but mostly the rose and mare. One foot in front of the other. It was like a game...would the ground be level or rough here? Would he be inadvertently stepping up or down? It didn't matter, so long as he could hear the mare's hooves on the dirt and the rocks, and smell the rose.

A rose for a compass. Perfect. His focus caused the four-leafed shamrock on either side of his headstall to fade; within an hour, the image of a rosebud had replaced them entirely.

Then, sounds he couldn't identify. Flapping, swooshing, and the sound of the mare speeding up. The rose's scent fading.

He sped up to try and keep up...and almost felt the air churn as the winged one came ever closer. Determined to protect the rose, he gathered for a charge, when he heard the mare's hooves leave the earth entirely.

Startled, he hesitated, and then hoped the hesitation wouldn't cost her.