04-03-2018, 09:45 PM
Gun did not know how to raise a daughter.
Especially one as odd as her, so it should come as no surprise that she is often left to fend for herself. She has become adept at sidling up to a mare deep in the throes of grazing and stealing a suck or two of milk from her teat (she has to keep her little belly plump and full somehow!) before being chased off by indignant squeals and blunt teeth. That only happens when she cannot find her own mother in the midst of the endless wilds she has been thrown into.
Glim is okay with being left on her own.
She’s never really alone in the true sense of the definition since she can summon and craft her own companions out of darkness. Right now, she is accompanied by a shadow-snake that slithers ahead of her, forked tongue flicking out of its mouth to taste the air. Glim summons it back with hardly a thought and the shadow-snake twines around a forelimb in a sinuous climb until it curls up on her back. She then changes its shape without much more thought and a shadow-mouse chitters in sleepy protest.
You could make more of me instead of changing my shape all the time.
Why, does it hurt? There’s nothing to you but yellow eyes, darkness, and my wish for you to be whatever I want you to be.
Glim narrows her eyes in consternation - this is how their conversations always go. She has but the one constant companion despite the innate knowledge that she could craft and command an entire army of shadow-things to do her bidding. Glim doesn’t though nor does she ever think to change her shadow-friend into something that she has never seen before. She keeps to the animals that she has crossed paths with and had the opportunity to study (stalk) for moments at a time in their natural habitat. Hence snake to mouse to who knows what it’ll be next - maybe a possum just for the hell of it.
The shadow-mouse rides comfortably on the filly’s small back. It offers her nothing more than a yawn that she acknowledges with a flick of one ear and the quick scratch of an itch that Glim herself would be hard pressed to reach with her own teeth. She plods onward, not even the least bit envious that the shadow-mouse is asleep. The soft snores that accompany her every step are gentle encouragement to continue on. It’s not that she is afraid but she is where one her age is not likely to be found unless tucked up against a mare’s side.
It fills her with a delicious sense of the forbidden as she goes further afield then planned. Excitement wars with apprehension until the two are so tangled up together that she cannot determine which is the greater emotion. She decides it doesn’t matter -either emotion is a heady catalyst to her finally planting her little hooves in the grass and chuckling to herself at what she has accomplished. Glim is where no foal in their right mind should be on their own and she delights in this defiant behavior she expresses.
Delights in it so much that she is goaded into a quick spin that flings the shadow-mouse from her back and laughter from her mouth. Now why did you go and do that? The mouse wants an answer as it peers up at her with those eerie yellow eyes but Glim merely shakes her head in an effort to hide her smile and morphs the mouse into a squirrel. How do you like that? She giggles much to the shadow-squirrel’s chagrin before casting her own dark gaze out upon the field.
What now?