I make my way over to the Field with a mixed feeling; dread, excitement, some sort of fear of the unknown, but knowing I probably am making the right decision. I’ve been told my mother is good at this stuff, or at least she used to be, and that it might come naturally to me. But I am also my father’s daughter, easy enough to be excited, or so I think (my twin sister, who does in fact take after him much more, may disagree).
The pearly sea-shell chimes softly in my mane, the flowers that we wove into our mane some time ago have withered. If one stray yellow petal still lingers, I haven’t noticed, but I did in fact groom again just before stepping into the Field.
My wings that carried me here are my most noticeable feature, but I tone them down. Folding them away, mine always disappear, and mother has mentioned it might be a subconscious thing - hers, after all, rise and fall with the sun. At least I have some better semblance of free will when it comes to them - but having had them since birth, I don’t know any better than that they are there when I need them, and are gone when I don’t. My overo patches being blue-rimmed, they appear like traces of clouds on my skin, the white patches hardly different from my cremello base coat. Blue eyes now scan the grassland, already wishing it was still summer.
I miss the heat of home, but I am on a mission.
I spot a stranger - a small female, and when I come closer, I find myself surprised to see she is not exactly a horse, but more of a ... donkey. Surely she will share my preference for warmth and sunshine, I think, and besides, she seems harmless enough for my nearly-two-year-old self. Decision made, I make my way over with a sweet, only the tiniest bit of nervous, smile. ”Hello. Can I join you?” I ask politely, then add up with an introduction just in case she thinks I’m rude otherwise. ”My name’s Kukka. I’m from a land called Tephra.”
Then I wonder if she already knows about the lands, or if she doesn’t and therefore, doesn’t understand a thing I’m saying. My left ear twitches nervously, but I take deep breaths trough my nose in hopes of staying relaxed enough.
the sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers
@[xii]