Magnus is right that she’s never far.
She spends her days bounding through the volcanic land, enjoying the way the soil feels so entirely different from the sun-hardened surface in Loess and the spongy moss she mostly found in the playground. It smells different and the flowers are enormous and although everyone feels slightly upset about something she can’t put her finger on, it doesn’t distress her overly much. Even when she saw that vision and mama had dropped her off here before taking to the skies, she had known not to worry.
Everything would be fine because her parents would take care of it.
Even if she hadn’t seen her dad in several weeks (months?), she knew he would take care of it.
He always did.
So she is not far when the purple stallion lands and she swings her head to where she knew Magnus was patrolling. She saw him lift his head inquisitively, frowning in thought before making his way toward the border. She was normally pretty good about not getting involved in the grown up business, but she couldn't just not go talk to a stallion with multi-colored wings and purple skin.
Grinning, she swallowed what she had been eating and began to trot over her, the warm winter sun washing her back and causing the mahogany of her scales to shimmer. She was still young, but she was no longer just a baby. She was reaching her first year in age, and the softness of her face was beginning to bleed away to give way for the more slender, refined lines of her mother. Her sage eyes were wide and expressive and the fluff of her mane and forelock was becoming silkier, her tail starting to hit her hocks.
Maturity was clear in the lengthening of her coltish legs, the slope of her hip.
But there was still a youthful glint, a mischievous curl of her lip.
When she gets near, she stops next to Magnus, bumping his shoulder before turning her head toward the newcomer. “And I’m Adna!” She didn’t bother to hide her blatant admiration of his unique coloring.
howl at the half moon, radio queen. she's all smoke. she's all nicotine.