Momma always said she was a strange child.
Why don’t you play? Momma always asked. But Killakee didn’t play. She didn’t chase butterflies through dew-kissed meadows. She didn’t cavort with the other foals, mostly because the other foals were afraid of strange little Killakee, the bone-winged girl. They often whispered about her and always ran from her. Killakee didn’t care though, she could make her own amusement. Her amusement didn’t come in the form of light-hearted bullshit and slavish grins.
The Beach was a great place to wander though momma disagreed. Bleach white bones baking in the sunshine; Killakee was fascinated from the very first time she had ventured there. Momma had hurried her away much too soon, but just a glance had been enough to whet her appetite. How did they die? Killakee would wonder. Was it natural or was it murder? Most foals her age would have been terrified at the thought, but Killakee made it her personal business to find out their death stories. Over and over again she examined the bones, only leaving when momma would give her a thorough bitching. Not the Killakee cared, mind, but it wasn’t worth the fight.
Sometimes Killakee wondered what momma would look like as bones.
Today though, she was in the meadow. It was painfully boring but momma had absolutely forbade a beach trip. Rather than face an argument Killakee had agreed, though she outright refused to seek out the company of the other horses around her. They talked too much about nonsense; the weather, or the sky, or some other such shit that Killakee wasn’t bothered with. So instead the little chestnut tobiano lurked at the edge of the woods, bone wings outstretched, as was her habit. Though her wings were utterly useless for flight, they were quite adapt at scaring the piss out of other foals. Killakee liked to be scary.
Momma had always said she was a strange child.
killakee
i am a dragon, and i'll eat you whole