Laying out in the sun piercing through the shadowed awning cast by the evergreen wood outside their family’s cave, the snow and gold filly dozes lazily in the warmth of that heavenly, golden glow. Occasionally, a breeze ruffles through her fluffy mane, but, otherwise, she is undisturbed, her sides softly lifting and falling, and her lids fluttering as she dances through a child’s dreams.
The sound of her mother’s hooves rouses the girl’s pale blue gaze, those dark lids fluttering open as she tilts her face to look up at the arrival of her dam. Rising to her hooves as Glacia tells her they are to go somewhere, the girl is slow, and blinks her comfortable sleep from her eyes with a bleary yawn. Hurrying her stretches and rousing of self when her mother’s touch gently urges her on, the girl trots after the snowy, black mare she loves with all her heart, her small voice inquisitively asking, as she catches up:
“Sentinels?” it is a large word for a small mouth, and highlighted with the truth that she knows not at all what it means. Nothing rises to mind around that word, the image which looms in her thoughts instead becoming relative to what was impressive to her. She imagines her strong daddy, tall and clad in metal, and she also thinks of the very tall mountains. Thereby, the image which swims to mind is that of a gargantuan Rikyn – which makes her lips quirk up in an amused smile, and a small giggle tumbles forth as she more eagerly strides alongside her dam down the path which will lead them to these mysterious Sentinels.
When they pause along the lake, Gwyn follows her mother’s gentle eyes to where she gestures. Listening, eager to hear of her grandmother, who her father didn’t talk of much, and also of her grandfather, who she might someday meet, according to both her parents; wondering what either of them were like, and believing that they are both as impressive as the Sentinels will surely be, the girl can’t help but wonder just was “a darker one at that” means as she again follows after her mother.
“Are they nice?” she asks, deciding to not ask about things she was just told should wait, even though she really, really wants to now.
However, the Sentinels are soon in sight, and, as she gawps up at them, all of the stories she had concocted along the way (entailing demons and monsters roaming about an eternal night in her home-vale) are blasted out of her mind. It’s all she can do to look upon them and hear her mother’s words, so much so that she doesn’t even noticed the strangers there until they speak.
Looking at them with wide blue eyes, she smiles and nods hello when she is introduced, her lion’s tail swishing behind her happily, but otherwise remains quiet, and watches the interactions in between impressed looks at the metal titans. Occasionally, she steals glances at her father, too, and smiles whenever his eyes meet hers.
The mare with all the horns Gwyn remembers from the Festival; she had run the stand with the hoops. Seeing her now, the filly is again impressed by her toughness, which is in stark contrast to her mother’s elegant prettiness. The other woman is big, too, but she makes Gwyn think more of her dam than of the spiky one.
’cause you’ve got teeth like a wolf
but you cry like a sheep
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[O] Don't scare the new girl [Welcoming!]
