▶ This forest was sly and she didn’t show her hand all at once. While Lourdes was distracted with Syrena, a second (albeit much tinier) mare crawled forth from the wood. Her answer fell helpfully in the space between the three of them. Helovia’s Threshold, that’s where she’d ended up. In the end, Lourdes supposed it wasn’t all that important to know the name of the forest. It was a foreign name that sounded all sorts of alien. It meant nothing to a mare with no memories attached to it. Turning to survey the newcomer all the Pegasus could offer was the slightest of nods. She wasn’t well-versed in social good graces, nor did she harbor the desire to get any better.

▶ Without being asked, the new mare offered up a name. Ovidius. She was significantly smaller than either Lourdes or Syrena and yet she gave off the impression that it was no hindrance. Though she was quite the pretty little thing, the impressive spikes that adorned her from tip to tip suggested that there was something lurking beneath the pleasing features. As quickly as she’d surveyed Ovidius, did the white-eyed pegasus’s gaze slip back to Syrena, probing for a reaction. If she had any, the fish-mare hid it well, though Lourdes wondered if she was imaging just the tiniest hint of annoyance. Perhaps it was her own.

▶ It became quickly and painfully obvious that the two mares were there for one reason: recruitment. The young witch supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. What had she thought, that this was just a customary welcoming party? One of them roamed nomadically while the other lived in a herd. They both bored her. Lourdes waited an indefinite amount of time after the two mares ceased to speak. She licked her charcoal lips and wandered closer, shoulders rolling as if to shed her cloak of shadows as she went. “I like plants and having space to myself,” And helping others, and taking care of children, and pretending to hate them both simultaneously. “Can either of you offer me that?” It was direct, but she’d never had the patience for beating around the bush. If the two mares were serious about wanting her then they’d learn to accept that. Lourdes didn’t really care if they liked it.

a note | what a loon.