My hooves are quiet on the ground, the thuds softly muffled, as I move, heading south and away from the North, welcoming the air still bitter and cold, but much more warm than the subzero North. Originally, I was planning to make my routes of Helovia and seek out any information that may be utilized by my herd, as phantom, as is my duty, no matter how much I despise its pettiness and sneaking. I am smart and clever and conniving, so in that way it suits me, I suppose, and I have come more... to terms with it, but I still find myself disliking it from time to time, when I could be serving as a magnificent soldier in the front lines of a war that is sure to come. The wind is chilled on me, swirling and twisting my soft, lush mane, as I march steady onwards, unwavering from my path towards the forest deep. Yet somehow, I find myself twisting about, nearing the Thistle Meadow rather than the Deep Forest.
It is not long before, like others, I hear voices in the wind, shrieks and screams, except they do not sound as if fearful, rather annoyed. I twitch my ears forward, mildly surprised to hear whatever they are call such attention to themselves, but I pick up a trot, no doubt ready to pry information from whatever may come.
What I do not expect is to see Mauja, my father, consorting with who appears to be Kri, the mare who so devotedly clawed out Mesir for catching me many months ago. I do not recognize the tiger-horse, yet I feel I quite agree with him and the shocked look on his face. When had the hard-lipped, stubborn-faced soldier mare, so hideous but respectable enough in personality (it was a shame she was not a unicorn) turned into a mare that clung to the flanks of a stallion? I watch with my mouth near hanging open from the edge of the trees clinging to the meadow as my father, Mauja the Frostheart, goes prancing up to the chocolate lady, as if in all the world he is attempting to make a move on her. No. This cannot be right. Mauja does not... he is racist. He is the Bane of the Plague.
There is something very wrong in Helovia, and that I sense immediately upon seeing the soft look upon his face. Slowly, worriedly, I step out from behind the trees, advancing forward to listen in shock as Kri squeals on about this and that, her face soft and eyes huge. I cannot understand this... this paradox. There can't be an answer! What happened? Yes, horses change... but surely not this much, in such a short space of time. "Fuck," I swear softly under my breath, scowling slightly as I look at the mare clinging to the white-winged's side. I had the oddest feeling she was one of those mares who did not like other mares around handsome stallions. Well, fuck her. She was a pegasus, in any case. "Mauja, what are you doing down here?" I ask bluntly, staring at him. It's not as if I control him- but this didn't seem to be Mauja, in any case. Unless he was starting to make a move on interspecies ladies as well as normal unicorn sluts.
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