My lids slip over my eyes, moistening the pointless lenses as my mind reels and slips along. I try and grasp at the idea that I am safe, that this man does not want me dead, that there is nothing for me to fear. All I can imagine is something like a tree, massive in size and bulk, muscles rippling under taut flesh and steaming from the nose and ears like some sort of overworked boiler. I remember the feeling of each part of mama, knowing well the way in which we work. I questioned her for hours on it, young mind soaking up such wondrously new information that for a time I'd forgotten how scary the world around us truly was. I envision pillars long and sturdy, balancing atop them a flexible, bloated body that wavers in the wind and is rather compact and firm. I recall the hardened muscle rippling beneath my dam's shoulder, the contraction and expansion of muscles as she craned her neck for me to reach. I purse my lips, drawing back these memories of discovery. We are odd creatures, mama tells me horses come in all shapes in sizes, that we are not all the same. Some may lack size but still hold muscle, there may be some that are tall and skinnier than mama's horn, or some plump from eating and bones swallowed by many days of fattening feasts. Mama says that I am still developing, that my size and mass will not be revealed until my horn has grown in and my voice stoops octaves below its current notes. I fell asleep as mama described me, giving soft nibbles along my withers as she compliments my eyes. She says they look like two little moons, but I don't know what the moon is. She says it lives in the sky, and this just confuses me further because why is there something living there in the sky? That open expanse must be lonely, being there wrapped up in all these different shades and shapes, watching everyone pass but no one bothering to acknowledge you.

A deep voice breaks my silent pondering, leaving me to prick my ears and listen to what he has to say. Harden up? He asks me to harden up. He asks me what I fear, and this pondering leaves me to question (once again) my own morality. This registration of life and how easily it can slip away at a moments notice, it's what I fear. My mouth hangs open and my milky eyes rest at a specific place in the darkness of my vision as I draw out the courage to speak. "I'm vulnerable." I murmur, eyes wide as if that will miraculously bring me sight. "Mama says that there are a lot of dangers out there, and that I'm disabled. Disadvantaged, open. She says I'm more likely to die than those who can see. But she still leaves me alone." My lip quivers as my squeaky voice whispers words too wise for a babe like me, I knew my thoughts expanded beyond what a normal child's would. Any chance of a carefree childhood has been crushed under the hooves of mama, who is a flurry of emotion when I near her. Some days she may openly accept my presence, allow me to snuggle up close and to trail along behind her with uneven steps. Other days she spits and rants under her breath, my ears picking up strings of words. Stupid, golden, liar, Aurelia. I hadn't gotten more out of her, because she seems to repeat the same thing over and over. I once tried to ask her what Aurelia was, and she cried and would not let me eat, merely wander strides behind her and hope it was her I was pursuing. 

"Oh- okay." I mumble, lowering my head. I'd never been formally introduced to anyone before, this was odd. I felt susceptible to worse fates than death now that I'd shared my identity. Mama says my name is a big integral part of my existence. Giving it out meant you opened yourself up to unwanted emotions and pointless conversations. Being lesser known was a way to keep yourself from getting hurt, so mama says. I could hear that she hurt when she told me this, that there was something wrong in her head. She didn't tell me and I didn't need to know, because the way her voice wavered at the mention of being broken by others shows that it's a personal matter. "H-Hi, Mi- Misael." Misael. The name is tucked away into the deepest recesses of my mind, paving the way for a more sociable life (one I don't think I'll be taking)."words."

Shahrokh