[open] I'll be there when the sky falls down;

[Soma]

" i'll be there when the sky falls down,
the wolves smell blood and the world gives up. "

Some fantasize about starting over, leaving everything they have ever known behind and plunging headfirst into the abyss. Sink or swim. It could be bliss, it could be turmoil, they need only roll the dice and take their chances. Soma, though? She dreams about starting at all. The Adoption Den is empty these days, a lot of you might be happy to know, but when it does get new arrivals no one seems to know they’re there and the orphans are forced to go looking for a family instead. Soma is one such orphan. She grew tired of waiting, as did others before her, tired of the fairies telling them to give it one more day—”Someone will come, they always do.”

Huffing, she tucks her black wings against her sides, the golden tips of which glint merrily in the light, and sticks as close to the treeline as possible lest a predator decide to make short work of her. She isn’t very old, a little under a month. The lines of her ribs are plain to see, even against the black stripes marking the majority of her hide, when she takes a breath and her skinny little legs carry her rapidly away whenever something makes a noise that doesn’t seem quite right.

Soma gets a few odd looks; after all, it isn’t normal to see a child so young wandering around the Meadow without its mother. One stranger even stops her long enough to compliment the four little golden nubs on her head, remarking how they’ll grow into fine horns one day. The filly smiles sheepishly, unsure of what to say, and then quickly scampers off when he starts to ask her where her mother has gone.

What’s she supposed to tell them?
She will be back soon?

Soma doesn’t know much, not yet, but she met Death early on and isn’t so eager to discuss her mother’s passing with some random soul in the middle of some social shindig. Satisfied she’s lost him and growing more tired by the minute, the little bay with all her stripes and spots finds a soft little bed of moss under a nearby willow tree and settles down there to rest. In the meantime, she keeps her amber eyes on the little pond that surely feeds the tree and watches in amazement as lively little fish come up to kiss the air. One of them even leaps up, snatching a passing bug, and Soma smiles in delight. She doesn’t know much, not yet, anyway. That’s for certain.

But she does know how to enjoy the little things.

soma