[mature] The past can hurt. You can either run from it or learn from it (any)

[salt]

to make something beautiful should be enough;

You’d think, being raised in the afterlife among dead things, she’d be morbid.
Salt isn’t, though, not really. She’s quick to laugh, and she has no idolizations of death (but then, she doesn’t see it as an endpoint, only a different realm, and she is already so comfortable being close to dead).

She isn’t paying attention to where she’s headed, so she’s almost surprised when the twigs snap beneath her hooves. She laughs, a little embarrassed, and looks to see a mare, pale gold near the river. She smiles, quiet, dips her head in a brief greeting. She’s friendly enough, despite her moribund upbringing, and she’s wanted for company, lately.

“Sorry to frighten you,” she says, then, “my name is Salt. Who are you?”

salt