Journee's Critters

A older bit I wrote for my roleplay character Tatiana, who is a horse. Luinrokko is another roleplay character on my roleplay site.
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Night fell in a slumbering harmony; but it wasn’t a warm night, and slowly--as Tatiana fell to her knees in sleep--frost fell and slicked the dying grass into white spikes made of ice crystals, and the sky became a flat plane of black glass---studded with brilliant stars like tiny diamonds, fixed in random patterns and constellations like they’d been tossed from the hand of the Maker, up to the heavens--and had stuck. A icy, chilling wind ruffled the trees and made the hedge of the forests wave their leaves until they showed brighter underbellies. Like a tidal surge, it blasted over the moorlands, sliding over the mountains in the northeast like a waterfall. So cold--you could almost taste it; it froze her fur, and Tatiana huddled against the slope of the ravine in her sleep--bleakly hearing the hoot of disgruntled owls as the flew, fighting the wind, over her pastures. Luinrokko had long since retired to the barn, which creaked, and wailed on old rotted posts--its ghoul-like howls echoing into the sky as the wind rocked it. A haunting sound, it was like a dead beast rising from the grave to hunt. Like the monsters in the stories some creatures were told as babies. No wonder many-a-creature thought the place was haunted by ghosts and beasts, and merciless demons. Tatiana had grown with the loud wails and screams of the old building, and slept right through them---though in her resting state she wondered how Luinrokko, the blue roan stallion, was faring. He was new around this part of the moors, and no doubt hadn’t heard of the barn’s racket before. How come she hadn’t mentioned it to him? Must have slipped her mind. Nevertheless, it was one of her last memories before drifting into a world of bright, dashing dreams. Flashing colors, and surprising warmth that just didn’t sing with the cold winter night it was bared against. Her mane fell to the ground, and was woven with the falling frost as she leaned with her chest into the grass, her hooves tucked up beside her, and her muzzle touching the cool earth between her folded knees. A deep, mist-like fog raced over the moors in clouds, settling down only to be swept away by the fierce wind. Hanging in the sky like a all-watching eye, a nearly full moon looked down like a king over his realm. Imperfectly round, it was silver, and reflected a white light on the streams and frost; turning the whole place into a frigid fairyland of whites and silvers that contrasted with awing beauty to the obsidian night sky--jeweled with white stars, and polished to a endless depth.