A voice entered her reverie of misery and she startled. Just a little bit. A mare spoke kindly to Wallace, and for but a moment Wallace imagined that it could be her mother, come to find her where foals go when they get lost. But it was not, she confirmed as she looked up at the stranger.
"What is wrong, young one", she voiced gently. It brought the filly's attention to traitorous tear-streaks marking her cheek and she quickly rubbed at them. She would not look weak to a stranger, even as a child. She bristled a little at the coddling tone in the mare; she was not her sister nor her mother, she had no right to take such a tone with her. She moved to stand and say as much, but the mare came forward and began cleaning her dirt-ridden coat.
Well, she thought grudgingly, she supposed she could use a bath. And she settled again. For the free wash, only, she assured herself.
"My name is Zara," she introduced, "Where is your mother?"
Wallace sniffed indignantly. "Mother, indeed." she said shortly, her eyes scanning the mare before her as though to take her measure. "I have no use for such things as mothers. It is my sister I want. And it is my sister I shall find." But in order to do that, Wallace needed to be out of here (and possibly more grown) and to do that would require an adult to claim her.
She suddenly felt completely hopeless as she realized her tone had been too harsh to take with a stranger, especially one kind enough to stop and see her, even care for her grubby coat. So many had simply just walked by, busy about their business elsewhere. Wallace felt shameful and saddened, doubting even this kind-hearted soul would stay around much longer with such a prickly child for company. She was too prideful to apologize though, and simply sighed in resignation of her lonely fate and lay her head back to the ground again. Tears welled at her eyelid once again, but she refused to let them fall this time.
"What is wrong, young one", she voiced gently. It brought the filly's attention to traitorous tear-streaks marking her cheek and she quickly rubbed at them. She would not look weak to a stranger, even as a child. She bristled a little at the coddling tone in the mare; she was not her sister nor her mother, she had no right to take such a tone with her. She moved to stand and say as much, but the mare came forward and began cleaning her dirt-ridden coat.
Well, she thought grudgingly, she supposed she could use a bath. And she settled again. For the free wash, only, she assured herself.
"My name is Zara," she introduced, "Where is your mother?"
Wallace sniffed indignantly. "Mother, indeed." she said shortly, her eyes scanning the mare before her as though to take her measure. "I have no use for such things as mothers. It is my sister I want. And it is my sister I shall find." But in order to do that, Wallace needed to be out of here (and possibly more grown) and to do that would require an adult to claim her.
She suddenly felt completely hopeless as she realized her tone had been too harsh to take with a stranger, especially one kind enough to stop and see her, even care for her grubby coat. So many had simply just walked by, busy about their business elsewhere. Wallace felt shameful and saddened, doubting even this kind-hearted soul would stay around much longer with such a prickly child for company. She was too prideful to apologize though, and simply sighed in resignation of her lonely fate and lay her head back to the ground again. Tears welled at her eyelid once again, but she refused to let them fall this time.
Wallace