She didn't want to make it a habit of running around and not taking care of duties back in the Throat...

But it appeared inevitable in her own case. She was now walking through a dense wood, a place she supposed was the possible edge of the Threshold, which she had skirted quite nicely, if she did say so herself. She looked up to the sky, the sun about at the mid-point she tucked her dappled crown back in and kept on wandering. Why not? She would find her home sometime, or at least someone to guide her.

~+~

It was then when she needed aid, the sun had decided to sink faster than her mind planned, leaving her in the struggling sunset of flames cast upon the evening. The girl had decided to take flight, but little did she know that this place of dread and doom would befall her decision of path. She didn't know what they where, but they where sticky and purple and ugh.

The girl kinda just wanted to throw up.

This was where she was taken by a glass mare and a dappled man. Where she was mended together again in the pouring rain. Where she was blinded by some of her first pain. She was afraid of getting hurt again, and who wouldn't? Someone fearless. She wasn't fearless, nor painless. The memory of the purple things stuck to her mind as they had stuck to her coat that wet evening.

When landing, she had taught herself to tilt her wings a certain way. To get the wind to glide off them quickly and not to catch. So that she could glide down easily with no threat of injury. She tried this here, deciding that it was a good call, because night was to fall upon her soon and she didn't make it a plan to be alone and hurt again in the darkness.

Her hoof steps where loud and careless, a finger of a low twig rubbing up into her mane where she jumped at the feeling of a rough finger on her neck. Ears twitching forward she listens for sounds that may be lurking in the last lights of the evening.

She heard something.

Another's foot steps, perhaps? She hoped so. Not someone scary like in the stories her mother would tell her before bed, not someone kind on the outside and evil on the inside (of her candy house, that is). And defiantly not someone who thought sneaking around was a priority. Poking her head into the thistles and out again, she sees her. A mare. She is beautiful in her own way, kind of like her mother is some views.

Spice is eager to talk to her. Though, now having all these stories of her mother's in her mind, fresh and clean, she wonders of the possibilities of this mare. Could she be a giant troll, ready for an attack on the Queen of Terabithia? Or was that just a tale as well? In light hoof steps she makes her way onward towards the mare, swallowing her pain and fear, she speaks. "Hello ma'am". The words remind her of how she would speak to her Mother a lot. Like in the morning, "goodmorning Mother." Or in the mid-day time when they ate, "Hello Mother" she would always dare herself to ask her Mother to tell her a story before the darkness of the world came.

Now it was just a kind gesture to a new friend.
Spice wanted to keep it that way.

"Talk Talk Talk"