The many strands blow in constant motion, interlacing, greeting, departing. A wild black. Long and free. The glistening coat shines a golden chestnut, sweat gleaming from it, skin moving for the powerful muscles beneath. The head is long, with flared muscles, daring the brave to try and tame her, white streaking across the face from nose to forehead like a shooting star. Wings explode from her back, beginning in the same chestnut, and towards the tips purifying, concentrating into a feathered gold. 

As she runs, obsidian hooves pounding the ground across the plane, the wings beat down, the movement filled with grace and strength. She beats again, and the powerful hooves begin to churn air, rising and rising, until the pegasus is hidden by clouds, watching the sunset above them, unobscured. The only thing left is a single, golden feather, and an enormous amount of respect. 

But the moment of regret, yearning, lasts only a moment. She descends from the sky, gliding. It is as if the morning dew itself covers her, and from the mist water shimmers a rainbow, landing in your eye. For the split second, you have until she passes, the world can be observed through the violet, indigo, emerald, gold, amber, and ruby, the calm stream flowing across the green plain, the wildflowers blooming along its banks, the peach-pink sky as the pale yellow sun rises, and of course, the pegasus. 

She passes and lands, shaking herself off and whinnies. She canters off at abnormal speeds until she is out of sight. You reach down and take the golden feather, a reminder. You don't need it. The image of churning legs, pumping wings, and flowing mane will be burned into your memory forever.