She sat up on the lowest branch of the oak tree at the edge of the field. Leaves of red, orange and yellow fell around her, and a cool breeze ruffled her long, charcoal hair. As the sun fell down below the horizon, she had to focus her azure eyes closer to the page in front of her.
Currently she was sketching one of the ponies who was grazing in the pasture across the wooden fence. It was a small Shetland pony with bronze spots scattered across its silvery back. Her beautiful white mane fluttered in the wind, and her emerald eyes glimmered in the low light.
The girl shivered. Perhaps from the cold, or perhaps from the memory that just crossed her mind. They had brought that pony after the previous one had died. She remembered that day perfectly. It was two years ago, and the winter snow was falling in the fields. Cocoa was old and weary. The girl was home alone and was lying in the stable with the dying creature. Stroking Cocoas light brown mane, she quietly sung her a song. She felt its final breath blow gently across her legs. Laying her head down on Cocoa's motionless stomach, she let the tears escape her eyes and drip onto Cocoas back.…show more content… The frost had taken her as well. But she was still there, watching over the house and trying to live. She used drawing as a way to try and stay in her family's memories. Every morning there would be a new drawing sitting on the dining table, signed by her. None of her family knew how or why it was there. After a while they didn't question it. They started to believe that she was still there in spirit, and it gave them hope. They began to leave her notes, things like 'Is Grandpa up there? If so, tell him we love him'. Knowing that they still cared gave her happiness and helped her to stay there and keep