The repetition of my name upon her lips sounds more like the sound I have come to know, unlike the dull way the syllables slid off my own lips and reverberated in my ears. The appearance of Eytan, tugging at my side in a constant reminder that he stood with me, has quelled the tension broiling in that stormy painted filly. My crimson and green eyes, half locked on the terrain, flittering up sheepishly occasionally to steal glimpses, begins to note the skyscape of the filly's coat is changing. For a short, brief moment, my brow twists in confusion as I tilt my head up completely, bitoned eyes locking onto her evanescent coat, capturing the flickering scene in amazement.

I see the flicker of lightning on her pelt and in the distance, a crack of thunder follows. I could nearly have leapt from my skin and scattered away in a fumble of uncoordinated bones, had I been able to move at all. Fascination stems from the mouth which slacks open for a moment, amazed. Bear has noticed as well, his own eyes looking at the sight I found so awesome, though the smaller mammal seems less impressed than I. The name snaps in my mind and my eyes falter and drop back to the ground, mouth shutting. Staring was rude, but I had never before seen a coat shift with the weather.

Cirrus, she had called herself. Cirrus and Azulee, my company here aside from Bear, and despite my discomfort, I can't help but wonder if these two will become my friends. It is unlikely; as far as I know, Ophelia is my only friend, and she is, after all, my aunt. Is it not required that we are close? The next words that slide from the larger filly's mouth make me ashamed I had forgot the faithful companion at my side. No matter the precarious situation I had found myself in, a smile still cracks on my dark colored lips as I look down at the dark eyes staring up at me. "This is Bear," I say, quite comfortably, without the jitter and stammer of my last phrase. It is much easier to speak when I need not look the filly in the eyes and address her properly. She is only a few months older than me, but I feel that she is much stronger and definitely more daring.

Chances are this Cirrus was much braver than I, and that makes me envious.

I recall that green monster that had risen its ugly head the day I formally committed Ophelia's name and face to my memory, and I do not allow it to come to the surface. Perhaps envy is incorrect, but it is true that I admire the qualities that I do not possess while this filly does. How I wish I could so easily address strangers in such a commanding tone; how I wish I could address them at all. I notice that Cirrus has moved out of the view of Azulee, giving her a glance the speaks volumes of love and affection. They are siblings, as Cirrus had referred to Azulee as her sister, and I find myself craving some of that bond as well. I have no sibllings, but the relationship seems to be wonderful. Mother and Ophelia have an amazing connection, and these two appear to hold a love I can only imagine as well.