The son of the Earth, that is what mother had called me. I was quite confused by her statement, for surely she is not the Earth. As far as I can tell, the earth is nothing but a mix of lands, tied together with interesting plants, waters, and even more interesting inhabitants. I think that she may have been talking about father, but I do not remember him much. The day of my birth is such a faint memory I can hardly say that I recall his face. Many the drumming of his voice in my ears is what I remember. Perhaps my father really is the earth, if his voice is an earthquake. Mother would not lie to me, after all.

However, I faintly begin to wonder what that makes me. Is this why I have funny extra appendages that mother does not have? Am I actually some combination of... what was it she called herself? Unicorn? Oh, yes. Unicorn. Am I actually some combination of unicorn and earth? Is this why I have grown wings and the horns of a ram instead of the elegant single horn that both mother and Ophelia wear on their pretty faces? I cannot speculate much further, for I do not know enough about how the earth works. Somehow, I think that I am entitled to some powers of the earth, though. Otherwise, I would look entirely too much like mother, which she and I both know is not the case.

I remember Ophelia talking about father and how he fixed mother's legs. This is evidence that he probably not the land, like the waves of tall grass I limp through now, but instead some sort of being. A being who speaks earthquakes, what a miraculous thing. It is almost as miraculous as the white dragon overhead, which I now turn my small horned face up to stare upon. Dragons were wonderful creatures, though I think Tinek is a bit obnoxious. Ophelia seems to adore him, but I think her judgment is quite clouded in certain things - especially about herself. I smile, thinking back to my aunt and her dual colored eyes. I very much miss our long talks.

She had told me mother had crooked legs as well, but mine seem to be healing by themselves, without the aid of my father. They had gotten straighter these past few months, and I am feeling quite pleased with myself. Truly, I was able to walk further without tiring, which my obvious detachment from my mother should tell you, dear reader, about this. Normally I was near mother or Ophelia, with few exceptions. Today, though, I had scrambled from her side and went adventuring in the tall grasses. I think, quite miserably, that I am lost, but cannot make myself turn back just yet. In front of me rises a pillar of smoke, and with hope in my bicolored eyes I lurch forward on skinny, unstable legs, my wings dragging behind me in the dirt for extra support.

It was around this time that I noticed him. The wavering of grass was my first clue, I guess, but it wasn't until we nearly cross paths that I managed to see the stallion. It must have been an awful noise that I made, for I shrieked as if a predator had jumped out of the grass at me instead of a stallion. Upon second glance, I note that he is walking with a limp, much like myself, and automatically feel much more at ease. I turn my small face to look at him, a shock running over that smudge blue wave of features, my ears purt and alert from behind tufts of silver mane that grew fuller each day. "H-hello," I stammer out, quite taken aback by this stranger in the grass.

Mother, adventuring is full of surprises, and I am not entirely sure that I like them.