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05-25-2013, 04:08 PM
 I had reached out and would quickly find this to be a grave mistake; it was folly to believe that all creatures would take my form of communication as well as Momma and other foals did. But, how was I to know this fact of life? She is now staring at me, eyes hardening with…what? Anger? Fear? My gentle face crumbles into confusion as only a toddlers facade might. The strange woman retracts from me and my childlike fingers pull away entirely; they slide themselves back inside the sleeve that was the mind. Hindlegs are bunching nervously, and my head has swung up—eyes are wide, round with a mixture discontent. Soft ash daggers are starting to lift, one at a time to take a few steps in reverse. This elder unicorn thrusts questions at me, as if I had done something horrible…wrong. Her sharp, unfriendly tone makes me want to naturally cry for Momma; and if I had voice—it was Momma that would have been bleated for. In the same note this sudden outburst makes me feel nagging regret for bothering to try and communicate at all. I didn’t understand her questions, ‘what are you?’ By now I had taken a few good paces back, my ears are flat against the swirling mess of smoke that was my mane. There is a discomfort, a tingling that makes my body feel hot and terrible. Its name would later come, I felt fear. There is also another discomfort, something hot is pricking the corners of my eyes. What good would it do to speak again? |
