Rosebay always travels far.
She has since she was a young girl, and it was a habit that did not break easily—let alone when whatever lie beneath the earth rose above to swallow her mother whole. She did not let such a thing break her. Did not let such a thing splinter her. Instead, she let it cut her free—let it spiraling out into freedom.
It is this thing that sends her to the meadow today.
The thing that has her walking through the grass and the passerby until she comes across the young girl, painted in pink and stars. It pauses her for a moment, her delicate hoof hanging in the air, her fine head angling toward the other with a moment of consideration. She considers continuing to walk, considers just leaving her there in the meadow, but there is something that snags her attention, something gripping.
So she puts her hoof down and works her way in that direction.
Comes up to the young girl just as she sighs next to the tree. Rearranging her face into something soft and sweet, nearly shy. “Oh, hello there,” she says, her silvery voice a touch more breathy as she curls around the other side of the tree to face the young girl. “I didn’t see you there.”
but in all chaos, there is calculation