There is a quietly nurturing quality to Belissma’s feminine tone and the words curled throughout it seem to stroke so delicately about each of the filly’s listening ears. They stand tall amid the curdling confusion in the mind beneath - above the downy, dark-shaded hair that sprouts en masse from her bony, black poll - and inquisitive eyes observe trustingly the grown-up’s knowing expression. It was obvious that the small Kitsune had enjoyed her meal, that much was obvious by the way she’d left no trace of the poor egg’s existence prior, and Zahra’s tiny, tapering skull bounced briskly. A weak smile ventured passed her bewilderment. “Thanks… Cav’li,” she announced promptly and obediently - her mother would have expected the same.

The puppy slumped with a small grunt to the earth beside the empty basket of twigs, and began slowly to lick clean her pallid toes. She was more than satisfied, and her meagre stomach which had been thus far deprived of food, had swollen dramatically to accommodate the rich delicacy - opportunity for a canine to retrieve nests and their bounty was few and far between, naturally. As she groomed her soft fur, striking emerald eyes scanned the dithering crowd.

As the grown-ups spoke on, Zahra’s small attention span began to wander. The day around them had grown long, and shadows seems to twist around them - across them - like wicked, raking claws. A shiver ran down the spine of the tired filly and she stepped from the cozy flank of the mare to find her sprawled sister’s side instead. Knobbly black knees folded in unison and she sank swiftly towards the sparse, wiry forest grass and quickly her pointed hocks followed suit. She curled as tightly as could be managed around the Kitsune, who in response shuffled nearer until a warm, peacefulness was seeping both between their infant frames, and the numbing thoughts in each mind. A gaping yawn split the foal’s inky lips as a sliver of radiant orange sunlight split down upon them.

“I’m ‘ungry…” she whispered vaguely as mention of her own starvation by the other’s brushed her resting ears. In recent months she had dabbled about the her home as her mother browsed between the soft meow grasses and late season fruits - berries that were a little too ripe for Zahra’s liking. Though challenging and often exciting (she was quite partial to adventure after all), foraging for food was far less appealing than slipping beneath the heavy scent of her mother and drinking the sweet milk she offered so readily. Working for a meal was not yet a necessity for the barely four month old. Nevertheless, she had seen my graze about here and there, and her parting teeth ventured near to a rouge dandelion of the brightest yellow hue - to her, it was far more enticing than the dull spiny sedge plants, or low crippled grass carpet surrounding.

She plucked the flower from its stem easily and began to chew slowly; her vulnerable monochrome mask pinched and contorted wildly as the bitterness of the morsel overwhelmed her. “Yuck…” she announced bluntly, dribbling away to the side a saliva slick wad of crushed gold. Certainly she had never tasted anything so repulsive back at home. “Ma,” she sighed, resting her chin gently against the puppy’s shoulder, “…said wait... th' forest.” Zahra had no reason to believe the flaming mare would not appear before them at any moment hereafter.