The mare could be anything.

A tree, a shooting star, your dearest friend. Nothing was unachievable to change who she was. Epithet could be your greatest fantasy or your darkest nightmare. She had been gone for too long and she wanted to feel the cool air against her heated skin again.

Beqanna was an evolving animal that waited for no horse, those who did not change were eaten alive and their bones buried in the centuries of legend that was before their time (and long after). Epithet finds it all to be amusing as she grins a nonexistent grin. She is a thin veil of grey, a cloud over the trees. She would make her mark upon the world once again for the mare was nearly old as time itself.

The woman falls to the earth, a gold pegasus of metallic sheen with deep blue sapphires resting in her eyes. She is a glittering gold beauty, her glimmer beneath the spring light nearly unavoidable. effortlessly, her hooves find their footing and the large expanse of her wings fold to her spin. Thin tendrils of gold locks fall in delicate ringlets around her face. She finds her own self remarkable and looks for others who may share the same opinion BUT Beqanna is finicky and so the dazzling equine stands with a delicately tilted head to the sky, studying the throngs of bodies in the meadow.

E P I T H E T