“Welcome to my home,” the queen's voiced trilled out brilliantly, the dancing tones as magical as would be the day where the land was no longer coated in winter, but rather blooming in the sunshine of the spring. Her head, then her body following, went over the crumbled pieces of glass wall there were blocking her way, taking her outside of the safety of her forest home. A gentle breeze, chilly though it was, lifted her mane and tail, throwing them about and twisting them together, settling them back on her neck in a voluminous mess.
Looking over the stranger before her, the queen took in her many traits. Her skull marked face, no doubt not of her choosing, her many scars, the scent of blood in the air. All of these things would have put a normal horse on edge, would have made the regard the stranger with suspicion rather than curiosity, but Kahlua was exceptionally unobservant and an absolute master of ignoring the painfully obvious. No, there was no suspicion, no concern, no fright. There was only happiness, emblazoned across her face as plainly as could ever be, there for the world to see and enjoy. Even her blue eyes sparkled with her naivety.
Nodding her head, the queen continued on genially, glad to see another wandering along her borders. She had intended to head to the Threshold, to wander the forest in search of new life to fill her forest with, but this skull faced mare had made her trip much shorter and her job much easier, if she was in fact herdless. And if she was not, all the better, because diplomacy was as good as herd growth. “I'm Kahlua, queen. How can I help you today, my friend?” Always too much information too soon, too open, too careless; But her childish heart would not be broken in the day. Nightmares only plagued her at night.
Kahlua
THE SUNSHOWER
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