Little Lamb || Sabra * Any

[Lavendel]

Lavendel

The mare stands at the edge of the forest, staring into the autumnal canopy above her splashed bodice. She awaits her opalescent queen, readying her words with an eager heart. Her second summer had arrived with full force, the warm air of it blasting through her milky mane as she stood there. She remembered the queen's words. If her words stood true Lamb would be receiving a job soon. She had been roaming about lately spreading the good news that Sylva had been, but her chest tightened at the mere thought of actually receiving something to do. Possibly even something important. The girl had always seen herself as a busy bee, she hoped Sabra would notice that. Lamb would just die if the mare asked her to stay put. To learn her place.

No, that was not what her painted queen stood for. Beqanna was changing, its tides were heavily influenced by it's mares. How lovely! Her ears flatten at the thought, beneath the deep wave of femininity laid tension. It was as thin and as tight as foal hair and just screamed threats of snapping under the weight that good leadership was. Sylva was small, maybe the smallest kingdom of all. Its lands were great but its numbers were small. Lavendel frowns, turning her gaze to the forest floor for a moment. With a hesitant cry she calls out softly for her queen, awaiting the winged mare with unspoken words.

Little Lamb

@[Sabra]