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I wasn't confident in my abilities. No, that was not the right word- I was too confident so I wasn't confident. Why did I confuse myself as I did? It was simple. Racism, sexism, combined. Right? I didn't naturally have an inquisitive mind, but the recent turns of events had forced myself to examine my nature as I had never done before. A puff of air escaped my nostrils. There was no use in lying- I was racist. Not to the extent of killing or maiming on sight, but I certainly didn't trust other breeds the way I trusted horned beings. That did not mean I would turn away a horse or pegasus, as I may have once done. Complications indeed. It was folly to play at such games. If I wanted to lead, as I so longed, I could no longer be as open as I once been. Once, I had been a book with pages hung wide and clear. Now, it was better to conceal such tempered feelings.
Sexism. Why was I sexist? Perhaps it had had something to do with my upbringing. Raised and worshiped. There had been no arrogant stallions to scorn me, to shut me down quickly as there was in Helovia. Mares, reclusive and seductive as we tend to be, at least know our gender well. But too many of us are down-trodden under the hoof of the colt that calls himself a stag. Patience, patience. I chided myself, flicking my silver tail. I wished I had the tail of a lion, with the lithe grace that came with it, but I was a beauty as I was. A captivating, slender, Arabian mare with a horn of white pearl, a mouth of soft gray, cloven hooves of moonlight turned solid. My mane and tail fell in silky waves, liquid starlight condensed. Eyes a sharp, pale blue, sparkling with youth and not to mention a touch of arrogance.
My hooves picked their way swiftly through the soft snow that cloaked the Heavenly Meadows, a white wool that kissed my fine legs. It was a pure day, of blue skies cast with smooth white frost pulled tightly and long. There was a crunch of snow under me, the tiniest of whispers as the white fluff gave away to me, falling away from my beauty. Beauty. I did enjoy my thoughts, wandering as they did, picking up a twisting path that wound through the wide field. I loved it here, where the air was sharp and clear and purer than my satin hide.
Now, if only the tricky thing called 'The Plague'... hmm... I sighed, gray clouds escaping silver lips. Although my fine tongue is silver, my minds are not to swift, decisive, nor even as strong. I need to find followers, first and foremost. So I should take to the Threshold.
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