Despite her attentiveness, she was totally oblivious to the approaching stallion halting in the shadows. He was a buck that should be familiar to her, as they had met at nearly every recruit she had attempted to bring home to the Basin, and him to the Edge. But of course she wouldn’t remember him, or else the conversation would have been a fond one. Either way, it did not effect her, as he was lingering in the curtains, unannounced, and nearly predatory in the way he admired her belongings. He remained invisible for now (can you imagine the irony, a perfectly hidden elephant?), and she continued on her seemingly solitary business.

The water was sweet as it washed over her lips. She enjoyed it’s coolness, now all she needed was to quench the hunger that had started to nag at her stomach. She walked leisurely over to a lush patch of green, unusual compared to the rest of the world under the autumn season, but it had retained it’s life due to the abundance of water that rushed by. She dropped her head again, chewing the blades absentmindedly. A warm breeze tousled her mane, and she released a contented sigh.

Her mid-day snack sated her thirst and appetite, pushing her over the edge of perfectly satisfied. A full stomach, a cozily warmed coat, a perfect afternoon. Drowziness washed over her. She stretched her weary muscles, feeling them pull and move beneath her coat. It was almost a waste, being built like a lean predator, like a sleek wildcat, but instead living as a sitting duck who couldn’t remember the thrill of battle.

She paced over to a tree, rubbing the arch of her neck against it. Though she still wore her summer coat, her thick winter fur was threatening to start coming in any day now, so she found herself frequently using the rough bark of the trees to calm the itch. As she rubbed against it, she felt the sparkling crystal comb in her mane loosen. She shook her mane, and though it was still firmly seated enough to not fall out without force, she would have to make a mental note to ask another for assistance in replanting it into her tresses so she could again move about freely. But for now, she had no plans of running or bucking or tossing her head, so she did not let it worry her.

Stepping back towards the lush patch of grass, she let her legs fold gracefully, lowering herself to the bedding. The whistle of birds lulled her, and the whisper of the brook babbling by soothed her. Her head began to droop, heavy lids becoming increasingly difficult to hold up. Her head swayed, and slowly she allowed it to fall, until it rested upon her muzzle.

Life continued to live around her, and the world continued to turn. But for a while, she was able to find peace, knowing not that she was being watched, and that it would not last for long. Because even in dreams, she was always being hunted.

Always running, always running, always running. She finds herself sprinting, unsure if she is running away or running towards. It is like a desert around her, but instead of cracked earth and dunes of sand, she finds herself crossing a frozen tundra. The whitened earth is covered in fissures, creaking and groaning and aching, with great drifts of snow moving and mutating as the wind whips across the desolate land. The sky above is darkened midnight, an inky abyss, the stars spinning dizzily in mad circles. Two great comets rip from the sky, racing with great sparkling white debris trails chasing then in their wake. They hit the earth, exploding in a dazzling array of white and blue fireworks. Still she runs, and from the impact points rise two glorious creatures, each with massive wings (though one’s wings seem to be made of moonlight), and both are proudly crowned, they are carved from the darkest black, glowing in their own right. They scream out to her as they chase her, and the words they yell are stolen by the howling wind. But, though the mare is sure her ears deceive her, it is almost as if they are yelling “Mother.”

Though peaceful, the girl’s features occasionally twitch as the dream shifts into a nightmare. Her sleep is light, but she is engulfed enough into the sleep world, that it would take an earthquake to shake her from her rest.