Själ

They wandered further, the girl and her bonded, aimlessly picking their way through the thick copses and abundant brush. The griffin bounded ahead periodically, as though to scout the way; it was, after all, much easier for the little cat-bird to weave through the leaves and stalks than the unicorn. Själ followed in her own way, albeit more slowly, gazing at the natural, foreign beauty surrounding her. How had she never found the hidden jewels of Helovia before? Why had she never wandered farther than her mother's northern wastes, searched for more than ice and snow and legacy?

The thought of Psyche brought the taste of bile to the girl's mouth. Once, she had worshipped the ground her mother walked on, coming to Helovia to search for her rightful place as princess. Psyche had been the DarkEmpress, Queen of the North - even though she had grown paranoid and scattered in the months leading up to her second daughter's birth, she had passed on stories of her time as a leader, a pioneer, a crusader. And Själ had believed her, hung onto every word, craved the legacy that her mother painted for her.

And when her mother had disappeared, and the princess had come to find her... she had been dead, her stories faded into oblivion. The girl's mouth twisted angrily as she remembered her abandonment. She had found no answers as to why her mother had left, what had killed her, how she had been able to leave her daughter alone in the world. Why had Psyche never told the girl of her father, of her sister, of the world within Helovia's borders?

Why had she left her alone?

Sensing her bonded's turmoil, Ansgar bounded back into view, crooning softly. The griffin, always more feline than avian, flopped onto her side in front of Själ, twisting and rolling to expose her belly in a stretching arc, making a noise somewhere between a chirp and a purr. The princess smiled, and then laughed, lowering her nose to rub along the griffin's exposed stomach. The fur and feathers mingled softly against the tender skin of her maw, calming the filly; the griffin batted gently at her face playfully, careful not to scratch the girl. Själ giggled again, shaking her nose back and forth, encouraging the griffin's playful behavior.

Approaching rustles brought the girl's attention back to her surroundings. Själ raised her head as Ansgar rolled to her feet, shaking the dust from her wings. A large, dark form was emerging from the hollow stems. The unicorn backed a step warily; the griffin arched her back, tail lashing in warning. The pegasus mare that stepped into the little clearing was indeed darkly colored, but streaked with light; her voice was kind and welcoming, and the filly halted her retreat, her ears pricking forward curiously. Ansgar sat and began to preen, eying the newcomer with caution.

"Thank you," the girl said slowly in response to the mare's offer, reaching out to nibble daintily at her own cattail. The mare was right - it was sweet, more flavorful than grass, particularly at this time of year. The filly chewed thoughtfully, vaguely noting that she had come across many more pegasi in this land than she had her own kind. She did not share in her mother's racism; in fact, she knew nothing of it as yet. One day, no doubt, she would hear the stories, and then the friendships she had made with winged ones would be all the more ironic. But for now, she remained blissfully unaware.

"My name is Själ," she offered. "Do you know what these trees are?"

"Talk."
--Ansgar.--