09-12-2021, 07:55 PM
sickle
The panther’s head tilts to regard the damage, now with the knowledge that it had been the colt who did it. Before she can ask one of the many questions that rise up, he turns to look at her and calls her the new girl. Her feline ears twitch back in wariness at the recognition and she nods through her uncertainty. This change in subject raises more questions, but she only lets one out - “Which one is your mom?” Though it’s unlikely she would know her, anyway. She’s only met one other mare here so far. And what were the chances his mom was the same golden-striped mare tha that had masqueraded as her cousin in order to lead her here?
This has certainly been a strange adventure, and her heart twists again to think about how her mom has not yet come to get her.
The presence of the other foal is a good distraction from this grief and concern, though, and since he already knows who she is she loosens her grip on the shape of the panther. Sickle reverts back to an iridescent blue yearling, shuffling her hooves in the ashy ground as she thinks about his question. Her mismatched eyes dart around, taking in the autumn-bright floral sea around this patch. Because she sees no reason to lie, when she looks back at Fyr she gives him the truth with a sad smile. “It’s okay I guess. But I miss my mom. And the trees. It’s very open here.”
She thinks that’s why she likes exploring as something small, so the flowers feel more like trees, but this thought stays in her mind and she changes the subject instead - not wanting to linger on how much she misses her home and family. A light returns to her eyes as she regards the younger boy, and there's a warmth to the curiosity behind her question when she gestures to the charred patch. “Can you bring it back?”
This has certainly been a strange adventure, and her heart twists again to think about how her mom has not yet come to get her.
The presence of the other foal is a good distraction from this grief and concern, though, and since he already knows who she is she loosens her grip on the shape of the panther. Sickle reverts back to an iridescent blue yearling, shuffling her hooves in the ashy ground as she thinks about his question. Her mismatched eyes dart around, taking in the autumn-bright floral sea around this patch. Because she sees no reason to lie, when she looks back at Fyr she gives him the truth with a sad smile. “It’s okay I guess. But I miss my mom. And the trees. It’s very open here.”
She thinks that’s why she likes exploring as something small, so the flowers feel more like trees, but this thought stays in her mind and she changes the subject instead - not wanting to linger on how much she misses her home and family. A light returns to her eyes as she regards the younger boy, and there's a warmth to the curiosity behind her question when she gestures to the charred patch. “Can you bring it back?”
@Fyr