It was a strange feeling, to see if anyone actually cared about what happened to me. No one had ever had the guts to ask for how long I had been blind. In fact, most of those who had ever made a comment about my blindness had only made reference to it in teasing or jarring manners. I had been bullied for it. No. That's too weak of a word. I had been ostracized for it. But, before I had been cast aside like the broken toy I was battered and bruised by the person that I had thought would have loved me unconditionally.

I suppose it was a form of love. After all, my mother had only attacked me until I acted normal. Every single time I didn't look her in the eye I was kicked or bitten so that my blood would drip on my pelt. Years had gone by under that training, and it had continued as I headed out into the real world. I was taunted by mares for not being able to see things - told of things that weren't in my way or tripped for no reason except to humiliate me.

It didn't matter then, though. It had made me stronger. But, still it tore at my heart and had bruised my mind in ways very few could truly understand. So, when he had asked about it I was a little confused, tilting my head to the side to try and understand just why it was that he cared. Curious, he had said with a shrug. Slowly, I nodded my head, eyeing him as I did so.

But, why was he curious? Why did he care? What was so intriguing about me that would make someone really care about how long I'd been unable to see? Would he even care when I started to speak again? Already, I was steeling my nerves in preparation of being tossed to the side the second that I was not necessarily in need of help. It would happen, this time couldn't be any different.

So, as he said to come one and I felt a nudge to my shoulder I matched his canter strides, having to stretch out in order to keep up. But, endurance was in my blood - it had to be to endure the torture that had been spread heavily across my soul.

Perhaps the patrol would end soon. Though I couldn't say that I would mind if it did continue. At least it was something that would keep my mind off the flood of memories with the images of torture splattered across them.