How could they kick me out?

The though rang through her skull, playing on repeat, so loud that she couldn't think past the question. There was no answer for her anyway, no reason for her exile. Except her blackouts, her fits, they had said. She was unsafe because of her fits. But she couldn't remember what she'd done, she never could. And so she'd left without a fight, mortified. The looks on their faces - the looks on her parents' faces - shame, horror, even anger, in some cases - the image was burned forever into her mind. She must have done something bad. Something had always been wrong with her, after all, she'd never been quite right. Even as a young filly, she'd had the blackouts. But they thought it would go away, thought she'd be normal. But no, they'd called her a witch and banished her. Forever.

How could they kick me out?

Tamira couldn't breathe, couldn't move. She sank to her knees beneath a towering old oak, huge in diameter, its leaves spreading above her like a canopy against the harsh midday sun that seemed to be blaming her, just like everything else. The tree seemed to be the only thing offering consolation to her. She leaned against it, the bark rough against her dark pelt. She didn't know where she was, how far she'd come. She couldn't say that she cared. She would certainly just get sent away, far away, destined to live alone. Who could want her, after they found out about her fits? Who could want someone broken? No one, Tibalt's voice echoed in her mind. No one wants you here. He was her herd leader. He was supposed to protect her. But she wasn't worth protecting.

How could they kick me out?

Perhaps if she laid long enough beneath the old oak, she would simply become part of the scenery. Tamira looked around sullenly. It wouldn't be so bad to be a tree. After all, you provided shelter and food to the world. Everyone needed you. Everyone wanted you. Looking harder, Tamira decided she'd rather not be grass or flowers. People would step on me, she reasoned, not missing how symbolic this was of her own life. She sighed, gloom settling over her like a blanket of clouds on a rainy day. Perhaps if she laid here, she would simply disappear.

How could they kick me out?