I resist my immediate urge to balk at her suggestion that mother was anything but the strong mare that I knew. Instead, my words lurch forth from my throat in a rather hasty and unpleasant manner, which I did not really expect or intend to happen. My voice is blunt, strong, indisputable, as it pours from my lips before I can stop it in my throat. "Mother is strong. There is no way she relied on anyone else." Especially you, my mind rings nastily in my head, thinking this white mare was just a conjurer of tricks trying to fool me. However, the harshness of my own words saddens me instantly, and my head droops again, even as this mare continues to speak.

I listen to her with a begrudging look on my face, yet the tilt of my ear belies my true feelings of interest. At the sound of my name, I perk my head back in her direction. I had not told her my name, so my faulty memory of her being at my birth had to be true. Mother had to know this mare well, to trust her as my guardian for the day. "Mother never told me she had a twin," my voice says with a touch of childish jealousy, which I find despicable. I quickly throw out that green monster in favor of a better me. I had been acting childishly for a few moments now, but I did not want this mare to leave, knowing that she is so close to me, my relative. She knew things about mother I did not. She knew things about the world I had just begun to see. She knew a lot of things, and I wanted to share her knowledge, at least some of it.

A shy smile forms on my lips, as I think back to the name my mother often says when telling stories. "Ophelia," I say, the name feels foreign on my lips, but it does ultimately ring a bell inside the chasm of my mind. "That is your name, right?" I glance at her with eyes of blood and earth, even as she nuzzles my shoulder gently. This mare is definitely my aunt. All at once, I feel terribly silly for questioning her from the beginning, but I am more relaxed in her overwhelming presence now. She was not a beautiful terror come to laugh at my inabilities, but a friendly face my mother loved, and so should I, when I think about it.

I am quite surprised by her offer to help me explore, and that translates rather quickly to my facial expression. However, I do not think exploring would be a good idea. Mother would ultimately worry about me, and it would cost Ophelia some of her energy and time. While I wanted to see the lands, it was possible I would see them with mother another day. Ophelia was also kind, but I did not want to exhaust that kindness so early in our newly accepted familial relationship. I gave her a serious look, one that likely belonged on the face of an aged stallion, before coming to lay down softly beside her, movements made awkward by the crooked limbs. I looked at her face directly, before my mouth finally caught up with my transient emotions. "I think I would like to learn about you instead, Ophelia," I say, my voice suddenly very strong. I was no longer afraid of my aunt, more curious, and I wanted her to take my curiosity seriously. "How are you?"

I immediately feel foolish after my stupid question. I had put forth all of this effort to have her take me seriously only to stumble on the first question of my impromptu interview.