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A group of scrawny foals are scattered about between the close rooted trees of the Deep Forest. Many in Helovia call themselves 'Outcasts' but these young things are the haunting face behind the true meaning of the word. No one notices their absence. Few know of their existence. There is no one who seems to care. But as it is often said; appearances are deceiving.
Shaggy and ragged they mill about. The moon does not even visit the rag-tag group. Only the stars glimmer and wave from their celestial playground. For most it would be hard to see on a night whenever the moon takes her rest from the sky, but each of the orphans wear a charm that grants them the ability to see in the darkest of nights. The magic leaves their eyes to glint and shine like that of one of the sly creatures adapted to prowling about in the night.
Two of the youngest fillies, a pair of twins, play with dolls made of twigs that one of the other orphans had long ago crafted for them. Their little voices and giggles are muffled by the dolls that they maneuver by clamping down on tiny handle made for their teeth to gently clamp down on. One of the older fillies intently braids the tail of one of the twins. Patiently she murmurs to a young colt, trying to teach the him how to braid, while he rolls his tongue about attempting to rid himself of a stray hair that made its way to his mouth. The oldest, and most rugged of the group, scolds a trio that had been teasing the colt who was learning to braid. Two out of the three stand with heads low in shame while the third bravely mouths off.
The crickets seem to enjoy the constant lull of activitiy in the makeshift home of the orphans and constantly play their songs. It is a haven for Helovia's forgotten souls that few have stumbled upon. Tucked so deeply in the secluded forest few have ever wandered far enough to find the group in their secluded corner of the forest.
Shaggy and ragged they mill about. The moon does not even visit the rag-tag group. Only the stars glimmer and wave from their celestial playground. For most it would be hard to see on a night whenever the moon takes her rest from the sky, but each of the orphans wear a charm that grants them the ability to see in the darkest of nights. The magic leaves their eyes to glint and shine like that of one of the sly creatures adapted to prowling about in the night.
Two of the youngest fillies, a pair of twins, play with dolls made of twigs that one of the other orphans had long ago crafted for them. Their little voices and giggles are muffled by the dolls that they maneuver by clamping down on tiny handle made for their teeth to gently clamp down on. One of the older fillies intently braids the tail of one of the twins. Patiently she murmurs to a young colt, trying to teach the him how to braid, while he rolls his tongue about attempting to rid himself of a stray hair that made its way to his mouth. The oldest, and most rugged of the group, scolds a trio that had been teasing the colt who was learning to braid. Two out of the three stand with heads low in shame while the third bravely mouths off.
The crickets seem to enjoy the constant lull of activitiy in the makeshift home of the orphans and constantly play their songs. It is a haven for Helovia's forgotten souls that few have stumbled upon. Tucked so deeply in the secluded forest few have ever wandered far enough to find the group in their secluded corner of the forest.
