Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna

It was pride that turned angels into devils

She was as constant as the season’s weather, as steady as the leaf litter driven to flight all around her – harried into frenzy by the late Orangemoon gale. Zahra stood amid it all, and the thin cloak of black and white canvased across her slight frame trembled as the chill of looming winter gnawed viciously. The wispy mottled hedge of mane rising along her crest flapped and whipped wildly to and fro, and the stiff downy tail to her rear was clenched down tightly between her pasty, scrawny buttocks. She was no fan of the cold to begin with, a fathomless, unexplainable loathing for snow and biting wind stirred deep within her, but there was little she could do to defend herself against the impending barrage – it was to be her first Frostfall on this earth, and perhaps the cruellest she would know. 
 
Neither she nor Sikeax could have realised the storm which had been brewing, just beyond the horizon barely a week before, and the sandy coloured mare and her hobbaglobbin had been farewelled in good faith, confidence – because Zahra had after all, been wandering the planes of Helovia efficiently enough for months already… She could think of no sour experience in all of that time, no reason to doubt her security. In fact, the lone filly could barely remember anything about… well anything at all!
 
Bird was huddled stiffly between each of the foal’s long bony black forelegs, ears turned away from the howl of the wind, sharing with her sister what small insulation her white, fleecy coat could offer. Before the puppy lay the vast collection of possessions they had somewhat unintentionally acquired over the past week or so – the old leather bag belonging to the dead mare, into which had been crammed a strikingly colourful mass of feathers and charms (some of which belonged to her father and his dearly missed companions); a collar and a spear, a shining clutter of trinkets that she knew not at all the value of. Two were precious heirloom amulets, and four others (including one rather pretty green one) had been given by default in the bag.
 
So many bits and pieces to lug around…
 
That was the chief reason she had not wandered from beneath the thick awning of tangled, gnarled branches; bronze leaves that grew heavy and dull, and many still green who feared not the wrath of the Frostfall to come. As it was, their new cumbersome style of travel had kept them rather well, because any venture without cover in the weather upon them might have easily brought certain death. Zahra was grateful for that mercy and understood well enough as her teeth rattled together and bones ached with no formed fat upon their structure. She did wonder if there was any merit in finding someplace still more sheltered in the forest, like a cave or even a shrub, but as her eyes drifted between the collection below, she sighed deeply.
 
It was worth a try.
 
“We gunna move, Bird…” she revealed quietly, insecurely, not certain yet if her sudden wave of resolve was for the better. Tiny knees buckled as her sister slipped to one side and together they worked the hefty collar (perhaps lighter for a grown-up to sport), until it was slung awkwardly around her shoulders – an ill-fit, naturally. The little kitsune moved to transfer the amulets into the bag, but Zahra stopped her tenderly with an intervening nose and smiled. “Can’t break Da’s feathers,” she crooned gently. One by one, she lifted each trinket to rest beneath her own prickly, firmly clenched wing, and again, but to the other side went the compacted spear. Bird secured the bag and its contents between her sharp milk teeth, and they began the arduous task of finding greater cover – deeper still, in the dark, old labyrinth of trees.