When I woke up this morning, or maybe day, or could it be night, but whatever, there was a fresh feeling to the air. Whenever I stepped out of the ice cave Mom had instructed me to stay in, there wasn't the usual blast of freezing cold air from the Steppe that made you scream "OH JEEZBUS! THAT'S COLD.", instead there was a new feeling to it. The feeling reminded me when I last saw Amara and met Sameira at the Heart when the air wasn't as cold as home. Warmth, that what you call it, right? It smelt of flowers, sea salt, and twinkled with shimmers when the moonlight touched the snow. Automatically I loved it, and wanted to see what more came about when I stepped out into the snow. The crunch seemed not as loud as usual, but this must be the changing of the seasons. My winter birth seemed in the past, and the place I was born at is nothing more than just a memory. Here is a new adventure today, and I want to go out to the open world to welcome it with open arms. Mom is sure to understand I just wanted to go outside for a bit whenever she returns from her thing, and probably won't be too mad at me. Someday soon, I'll be as big as her at this, but it's true I'm not enjoying it. Life has plans for me and my family that I'm not ready for.
My adventure took me out of the north and by-passed the Foothills(the place I'd been born, but lived there only for a day) before I reacted the still fresh memory of the Threshold. The winged stallion Mom and I met a while back ago still had his scent there, floating through the air and clinging to the growth. My grey hooves seemed to have grown on me, and when I found myself standing in the tracks of a larger horse, for once, I knew I wasn't about to always be so small. The horn I was born with has grown with me, extending outwards to where I can now see a bit of it. It's the small colour of Mom's eyes and the glow from it, a pale blue. A thought crosses me as if I look nice for this trip because in my time of wanting to see the world in this new light, I lacked a break for a bath. My coat was a sandy colour, and my mane was a dirty chocolate. What colour did Mom call me? Amber Champange? I think that's it.
My legs were now much more limber, yet I still found myself stumbling occasionally while I hummed to myself. Luna looks down upon me from above, and I offer her a smile. Her response to my smile is strange. Before me are flowers, blooming and glowing. Greed overtakes me and I feel the pull of wanting to pick of one them, yet I ignore it and move on. Voices flutter like moth wings through the trees, causing my small ears to move in every which direction to search for their owners. A soft song breaks the silence of nighttime, and as I stare upwards, there is a bird in the trees. They sing again, and my desperate attempts, I try to answer them with a nicker. My nicker goes unnoticed and the bird flies off, leaving me completely alone.
Why do you have to be so rude?
Something other than my thoughts creates a noise, and curiousity is such a beast inside my young chest, that I must exactly know the creator/owner of it. The strides I'm able to create are slow and short, but my lope brings me to something that looks interesting to me. Well, the lady I've found is very beautiful, if I might say. Describing her if I must, I say she's the colour of fire, not the tallest nor the shortest, with beautiful amber eyes. My eyes are a pale blue to match my horn and it's glow, grey flecks moving inside them. The glow from my horn is a sure give away that I'm right here as it bounces off the trees and growth, but I want to make sure she knows I'm here with her, and that I'm not confusing her with my glow. The best I can offer is a soft nicker.
A giggle escapes me, childish actions still in me. My stomach isn't complaining as I tried to nibble upon some grass (though it tastes as bad as poop. Please don't ask.) and was able to feed myself. After some time, I feel threatened at the thought of not needing Mom as much, but I may live. There is still Uncle Tonka with his amazing stories, and Amara to play with me.
"Hello Miss Nomad. I'm Sikeax, Doctor for an outcast group called the Assassins. Might I ask your name, please?" The way I tried to speak to her seems too loud for just a filly like myself, but I want to be mature at these times. It can't be too hard, can it? I looked up to her as she stood a bit taller than me, and smiled. Oh, please let her be nice.
If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?