The old mare didn’t know why she bothered coming here anymore, when she knew full well that lightning rarely struck the same place twice. No matter how many times she had made the arduous climb up to the Heavenly Fields, the so-called sun god was never there. She didn’t expect him to be today, but perhaps it was nostalgia that called her to the meadow, a ritual that had become a comforting constant in the chaos of her cursed life.
As usual, the hike was difficult for her aching joints, but Sheba pressed upwards stubbornly, determined to reach the summit. Nearly two years of being trapped in this body had taught her a thing or two, and she knew how to pace herself and when to rest in order to preserve her valuable energy. She had always been aware of her own physicality, but Fireball’s antics had forced her to become hyper-vigilant. Her movements were slow and deliberate, and though they were nowhere near as graceful as they had once been, she was able to make it up the hill without collapsing—a small victory that she privately celebrated as she reached the dewy peak.
However, she was not alone at the top of the world. A small, dark figure stood at the edge of the field gazing over the cliff, perhaps appreciating the view. Not wishing to disturb him (nor attract his attention, lest he be repulsed by her ugliness), Sheba moved quietly into the grass. Leafy tendrils swayed around her, stroking her belly and snapping downward at her hooves, but aside from her telltale rustling, the old gray mare remained silent. Once the stranger had gone, she might take her turn at the view as well, but for now, she lowered her head to graze. All the while, she kept one rheumy eye on the young stud in the distance, hoping (albeit a little grumpily) that he would have his fill soon and be on his way. He was a rugged and well-built youth, she observed, and Sheba guessed that a tranquil field would not hold his attention for long, especially if she was its only other occupant. That was one of the few perks of losing her beauty: she had become well and truly invisible. So thinking, the wizened unicorn stood knee-deep in the new grass, biding her time.
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