Zahra, Ilham and Hanna

It was pride that turned angels into devils

Like an infant rising for the fist time he lifted, and though that three-legged hunch, the painful posture he had worn had all but vanished from her sight, there was a new weight across those dim, sodden shoulders - one that she had not quite anticipated. The bright delight canvasing her face dropped away suddenly as her gaze fought the tremble of his unwieldy frame - had it truly worked? Was she too fast to claim triumph? Her young impulsive mind had expected him to rise with fresh vigour, perfect balance and form. That was not what Zahra saw though as she held stiffly onto a breath, leaning involuntarily as did he, as though it had been her own leg wounded. He shifted though, as much as was needed to find her in his sights and revealed a smile still more delicate than the song of the quiet marsh frog - equally as frail perhaps, one move and it might shy from existence.

Despite his horn too, which still seemed to bother her terribly, the young filly thought him to be little older than herself - maybe with more years under his girth than Zero too, but barely older than her brother. He was tall from her small perspective, and like her, without much flesh to coat his bones. Zahra took a moment longer to further trace his outline; legs that seemed never to end, scrawny-looking, and the hooves beneath that looked like the ones the friendly deer in the snow had worn. The tail streaming behind was perhaps the longest like it she had seen. He’s like a big baby… kinda, she thought quietly, lips pulling into a pensive smile all the while. For the most part, it was Bird lone who indulged her frivolous heart with play time, but she couldn’t help but measure up his potential worth. Once a princess, born of both earth and fire, the filly was well practiced in the tradition of formal greeting and readily she met his gesture with a soft chorus of spilling breath.

"Not a mir… acle," she giggled innocently beneath a childish flutter of snow-white lashes (her sandy eyes rolled in unison). "Zahra," she corrected easily, but his gaze had again wandered from her face. Swiftly she followed to find the gash still bloodier on her fetlock. It hurt a little, typically worse for the sake of the attention set upon it.

Bird huddled reluctantly against the cold, gnarled roots of the grove, studying carefully the body language of the stallion, now standing.

The tiny spidering had been watching from her sister’s half-black brow - like a pasty star against the night. She was tethered to the foal by a long string of shining silk and gathered it’s slack between pointed hairy feet as she began a slow retreat through the jungle of juvenile mane. Near half-way down its length she had crafted a warm burrow made of silk and oily hair, and for the most part, this tiny haven kept her hidden. Ilham was neither brave nor adventurous; she was reserved though curious like any child, and particularly creative. Already she had sown a vast forest together with uncannily strong web and this fascinated her four-legged sister endlessly - together they had created a sleek ribbon, and it was perhaps the most prized of the foal’s countless possessions.

All eyes fell finally to the egg, and while the stallion’s nose sank to touch it’s shell, the snake curling behind him distracted Zahra from the quietly intimate moment. The amulet dangling from its length slumped to the soggy dark pelt across the dipped back below and she followed it to rest with wandering interest. "Maybe she doesn’t like the cold like Bird?" she chimed unhelpfully with an unintentionally insensitive drone to her tone. Her tiny tapering nose shifted and she looked again to his face. "Saw a gold horse once and he had a dead thing for a coat," she added more interestingly, but still it was pointless. "Shame ya don’t have wings to hold ‘er like I do." She ruffled the glossy thatch of almost-grown feathers, clutched to either side of her barrel.

Then another thought struck her, and the tiny spider squirmed as she slipped into the well concealed burrow.

Lips buried themselves beneath the too-big-collar against her breast (access was easy, she was petite and it sat well upon her warrior father). Two amulets fell free and splatted loudly against the wet embankment and Zahra huffed, quietly dismayed by her own clumsy nature. She did not retrieve them right away however and fought to draw free a length of ribbon that was perhaps no longer than half of her leg. Proudly she tossed her face too and fro, waving it like a banner before him. "We make stuff y’know!" she announced through fastened teeth. "D’ya like it?" There was no mistaking her own fondness at all…