The night was still. Even the moonlight which often seemed to quiver did not waver. The stars were bright, but did not twinkle. The leafless trees did not rustle, for the winter wind had quieted. The forest was so silent that even an owl's quiet flight would have been heard.

The Wanderer moved silently as well, comfortable in the cold and content with the winter chill. Her silver coat had grown out, but had lost non of it's shine. She stepped lightly, leaving a barely visible path behind her. Daughter of the moon indeed, for she gleamed so like moonlight that any stranger would mistake her for the wavering light of the moon. She breathed steadily, each exhalation leaving a small cloud of smoke.

The mare stopped. She lifted her head to the moon and heaved a gentle sigh filled with secret sorrow, pain, and hope. Mystery surrounded her again and she was back in her forest, nearly home in her mountains which she had left many years ago. Home. She breathed ever so quietly so as not to disturb the stillness that surrounded her. She reveled in the silence, the cold, and the serenity that filled the forest.

As she gazed at the moon, the wind began to pick up, but it stirred no branches and did not whistle as the mountain winds so often did as they swooped through the forest. She let the cold winter air fill her nostrils, let out a soft snort of contentment, and inhaled deeply again. The cold air refreshed her, made her feel alive again, and the moon's light was healing. She was safe here. And, with each deep breath of the winter wind she grew stronger, as though the wind was lifting away her past to leave her fresh and new again. Sometimes you can start over.

She closed her eyes for a moment and let the wind embrace her. Her main and tail streamed like black ribbons behind her and her diamond horn glittered like twinkling stars. She stood there, unaware of the passing time. A gentle nicker broke her reverie. Usually flighty and easily startled, The Wanderer did not spin, but slowly lowered her head and turned. The Gypsy stallion's approach had been entirely silent and he now stood next to the small mare. He looked at The Wanderer quizzically, and she returned his gaze. There was a story behind those amber eyes, a story she wanted to know, a story she was willing to take the time to understand.

Still, she was uncertain. The pain of her past was still near and throbbed more often than she would like. She turned to go, but something held her. Something in the stallion's gaze, so soft and sincere, tugged at her heart. Somehow she knew she was safe, that no harm could come to her. She knew she could run if she chose. But for the first time, running did not seem all that appealing. For the first time, her heart told her to stay. Though her legs quivered and her heart pounded in her chest, she stood and stared into the Gypsy stallion's eyes...
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Another picture of Khelek. I tried to show is right side here, but it's not all that obvious. But I think it shows enough. I might make another reference sheet for his right side, but I'm not sure. Or I could just draw him again I like Khelek a lot. Seriously...I'm afraid I'll start drawing him too much. Anyway, this is the first meeting of Khelek and The Wanderer.

Comments and Critique welcome!
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Khelek and The Wanderer copyright Ashley Mutek.
Image copyright Ashley Mutek.
Derwent Graphic Pencils F-9B on Bristol Board.
May 11, 2010.