[open] The smoke will lead you home

[Saedìs]

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The wild way her mane tosses about is the finest kind of freedom that she can think of. The way it whips about, knotting, twining, looping. It is in a frenzy of motion that no body could duplicate. Her heart leaps. Her smile broadens. Like this she stands, lost to her reverie - where she is the very breath of the grasses, the wind following behind her to crease the sea of green and gold. There is nothing better than the feeling that comes with dreaming.  In her dream, she lets her laugh bellow out past thinly stretched, smiling lips. In her reverie, the world was hers, in this little corner of the Field. She was the goddess to whom every grass would fall, every tree would whisper to, every star and moon beam would seek. In this little place she did not need to worry, she would not find pain, she could not fail.  But of course, it is just a dream, and such state of bliss cannot last. Saedís blinks slowly as she forces herself back to the Field, to the present, to greet the cold night breeze and the tarnished grasses of wall and the trees that would wail in pain rather than whisper sweet nothingness into her ears.  The clouds pass over her moonlight and her laughter is choked to silence, her smile is ripped from her lips, her bright sparkle is dulled to mere embers of would-be's. The sting of loneliness often finds her like this. But oh, she will find a way to strike it down again. Her constant companion, it would return, but only when her guard was down again.   The breeze does as it often finds amusing, twirling about two beasts upon new acquaintance. Bringing each scent to the respective other. The scene is a prettily orchestrated thing. The grasses brushing at the bellies of each of them, both creatures eyes – Saedís´ spun of stars and dreams - and Enniskas that bright blue of young rivers - locked startlingly long in time passed. There is a fleeting second where Saedís can almost sense the same needs and longing in Enniskas eye that she knows must be there in her own. Of course – she remembers, her whispered hello must have drawn the other mare to her and again that striking smile that brings to mind the image of sun beams and star twinkle is back on her lips. But she has barely dipped the slender alabaster of her face to the stranger when Wound makes her entrance, and caught off guard – despite her respectful halt a few feet away from them, Saedís dances uneasily to her left, her eye embarrassed as it meets Wounds. Her appearance perhaps should have shocked her much more than it did, but her gaze falls blindly over her unfinished front leg, ignoring the limping gait. Instead – the greeting procures the shiest of smiles upon her lips as she answers, in her bell-chime voice. ”Hello Wound, a pleasure to meet you. I am Saedís, and this is – “ she looks to Enniska, suddenly remembering that the storm-grey mare had not yet offered up her name. ”Forgive me, I don´t think I caught your name” she continues, heat rising on her snow white cheeks. Saedís greatest fear would be to somehow offend the mare. ”Men?” she echoes innocently, as if somehow unaware that such vile creatures exists in the world. ”How do we avoid them? I fear I am not quite yet familiar with these lands yet.” she admits, her tender gaze flits between the two mares as if trying to decipher what is expected of her next.  SAEDÌS