fiachra

Home, where I wanted to go,
And nothing else compares.

Fiachra's rich purple eyes flitted over the monstrous metal forms guarding the pass as she and her small party entered the frozen herdland. Thought she suspected the giant figures were merely statues, meant to intimidate those who would trespass, she could not shake the feeling that they would suddenly come to life, peer at her with their cold metallic eyes, and smite her where she stood. With a shudder, she pushed that thought as far away from the front of her mind as she could. Never the less, she huddled in closer to Zahra, who seemed, at least, more sure of herself than not. Their barrels were close enough to brush together, and Fiachra could almost feel the touch of the gold-brushed filly's coat on hers. A small, nearly silent sigh escaped the older mare's lips at the closeness of another warm, equine body.

After her greeting call was echoing across the snowy pass, she turned her head to the side where stood little Zahra. She offered the yearling a warm smile. There was an excitement growing inside the dark mare that she knew was only partially due to finding herself in a new land surrounded by new acquaintances. She was a people-person, she had known that since she was probably not much younger than Zahra's age. Fiachra had desperately missed having other horses around her. More than that, though, she had missed having someone to care for.

During her time in her band of raiders back in the Riy, Fiachra had often cared for the well-being of her band-mates, both mental and physical. The life of a raider was rarely easy. Many of them were there because they were not, or could not, be accepted elsewhere. She herself had been stolen at a young age, and the herds then saw her as tainted, unworthy. Pompous, stuck-up, traditionalist old beans! She could only hope that this land was more open, more accepting than those in the Oaken Riy. Anyways, Fiachra shook herself back to her previous train of thought.

"Zahra," the black mare began, looking solemnly, but not amiably at the vraga. "Do your parents live here? Your family?" She hoped the question wasn't impertinent, but something deep inside of her needed to know. She needed to make sure the filly was well looked after. What if Zahra was like her? An orphan? Fiachra remembered what it had been like to be alone before Babrako took her in and raised her. That was back before the raiders, a much simpler and easier time, orphaned as she was, as most carefree foal years are. "Do you have anyone?" she finished simply, extending her muzzle out, intent on nibbling a bit of Zahra's fading gray mane.

"Talk."