Through her eyelids she can perceive light; passing through the vessels, through the flimsy skin. It is brilliant and blinding and inviting, and it swirls gaily outside the world she has just been thrust into, this new place so full of light. There had been only darkness before, far too much darkness for this daughter of light so accustomed to fire.

And so simply, with the lift of this red veil, she reveals a wholly new universe to herself, so startlingly bright and colorful - so overwhelmingly full of light! She blinks quickly, letting every color and every ray of sunshine sink into her eyes until they are no longer so fierce. Before her is a land far too vast, a meadow far too sprawling. Her cradle is a bed of golden grass which seems to squirm and writhe beneath her with a million tiny lives.

Mother stands next to her like a giant dark cloud, gentle pink tongue lapping over her pale pelt so slippery with sticky fluid. Her comically big ears tilt back to catch the gentle, lovely voice that is so painfully familiar to her, and with a little jolt of surprise, she finds herself nickering softly in reply - a new sensation which resonates through her limbs and the tips of her small wings.

Soaring black-blue over soft pink meets her eyes as they flick skywards. For a moment she is afraid of the gliding reptile, but is swiftly pacified by her mother's calmness, and neglects to notice the three black forms who approach them. The first two came with ease, their low wuffles startling the filly, causing her to unfold the spindly forelegs, pale rose-gold hooves meeting the hard ground with a slight thump. After a tense moment, though, she turns her eyes to meet them, responding with a nicker which vibrates through the pink nostrils. The third is more feminine than the two warrior-brothers, and her eyes are as golden as the dragon perched regally upon her back. Israfel (Mama named her) watches her with open curiosity as she greets Mother. When the inky mare speaks, her voice is placid, but it is also strong; something which enters the earth with its command and leaves those above it empowered.

Shortly afterward, a silver stallion appears, white dragoness in tow. He, too seems kind, and the little hybrid glances at him apprehensively, ears flicking back and forth between her dam and the three equines and their frolicking dragons.

Another voice finds its way through the gathering, but it is loud and brings an excited collie in tow. Israfel watches the dog warily as he yips happily, unaware of the malevolent scrutiny she is subject upon by his master, a tall buttermilk-colored stallion with a scar across his face. Suddenly, there is a painful tug in her belly, something which calls her attention from the friendly dog who stands by her mother now. She is compelled to unfurl her hind legs, and commands them to stand, gold-tipped tail swishing in concentration. Hooves dig into dirt, muscles roll and toil, and the princess leans back, forcing her haunches to take weight. As she rises onto her forehand, her too-skinny limbs splay with the awkward weight, threatening to buckle. Wings flap frantically, allowing the newborn to right herself before stumbling blindly in the direction of her dam, following the gentle curve of her belly with her delicate nose to find what she seeks: food.

The filly prods the underside of Smoke's legs to be certain the udder is really there, and content with the result, she begins sucking greedily, relieved to feel the hole in her newborn belly beginning to fill with the hot, rich milk.

When she is finished, Israfel detaches herself from her mother's belly, reeling backwards precariously to face the small crowd, metallic eyes wide. There is a new mare, a pied palomino. She exchanges words with Mother, as the other have, and the babe watches curiously, ears straining forward to catch the foreign sounds. But being a young foal is not easy, and soon Israfel feels the weight of her mother's milk sinking into her belly, the eyelids, formerly red veils to the world, tugging downwards. Defenseless against this drowsiness, the pale foal crawls underneath Smoke's belly and sinks clumsily to the bed of grass.

She cannot nod off, though, because a curious little creature with wings like herself peeks at her between the grass, all eyes and beak. With a dainty jerk of the head, the filly finds herself watching the creature squarely until the gryphon lays beside her, a soft noise coming from her pink nose as she attempts to find this creature of feathers and fur. There is another black mare behind her new friend, one she assumes (with what little understanding bestowed to her), is the mistress of this cub.

Suddenly, the girl is faced with a long black nose and familiar gunsmoke face, so similar to Mother's, although the eyes are blue instead of dark. She brings friends too, like so many others, two strange, long creatures composed of a swirling liquid which catches the sun in a hundred shades. With wide orange-red eyes, Israfel watches her sister slink back sheepishly beside the tense buckskin and his dog, although Kimber's gaze still remains on the tiny albino.

What a warm welcome for the daughter of fire and light, but do not expect all to receive you this way, little sun.

"talk talk talk talk talk"