Her life was nothing special. Perhaps even the typical life of a foal here in Beqanna. You had your happy stories, your sad stories and then the ones in between that were hardly worth mentioning. Her mother had loved her, in her own way. Chula had always been a standoffish mare and when Carnage had covered her and given her Feyre, well it was not surprising that Chula was a little enraged for a while. However she had birthed Feyre, kept her around and taught her a few things that might help her, might make her life a little easier.
Like fighting. No one knew the young black mare with the bald blue face was anything special. She was average size somewhere in the 15 hands range with a smile that was friendly if a little wary. Overall she really was nothing special.
But Chula had sent her on her way when she was old enough, strong enough to protect herself and so with a grunt and a nod the little black mare had settled on the place she would want to live.
There was always something about snow that she hated. The cold, the wet, the way it seemed to hinder your walking. She was either slipping on it or wading through it and neither sat well with her. Of course, her mother had moved some of it out of their way when they had been together. By herself, she found it was a hindrance she could live without. And so she headed towards the Deserts.
While she knew the nights would be chilly, the days would be equally hot and the mare was content with that. No doubt there would be days she roasted in the sun with her black coat, but for now she decided not to think too much into it. She lingered at the border, Chula having taught her it was often the best place to be, because one never knew if the king or queen would harm you for wandering in without an invitation.
Feyre had picked the Deserts for another reason, for the fact that it was a light kingdom. However she lingered there near the edge and waited.
(bleh sorry, new pony)
Like fighting. No one knew the young black mare with the bald blue face was anything special. She was average size somewhere in the 15 hands range with a smile that was friendly if a little wary. Overall she really was nothing special.
But Chula had sent her on her way when she was old enough, strong enough to protect herself and so with a grunt and a nod the little black mare had settled on the place she would want to live.
There was always something about snow that she hated. The cold, the wet, the way it seemed to hinder your walking. She was either slipping on it or wading through it and neither sat well with her. Of course, her mother had moved some of it out of their way when they had been together. By herself, she found it was a hindrance she could live without. And so she headed towards the Deserts.
While she knew the nights would be chilly, the days would be equally hot and the mare was content with that. No doubt there would be days she roasted in the sun with her black coat, but for now she decided not to think too much into it. She lingered at the border, Chula having taught her it was often the best place to be, because one never knew if the king or queen would harm you for wandering in without an invitation.
Feyre had picked the Deserts for another reason, for the fact that it was a light kingdom. However she lingered there near the edge and waited.
(bleh sorry, new pony)