“Alone?” Zahra mimicked vaguely as she knelt nearer to the sullied fabric she and Ilham had created so perfectly too many seasons ago to count. She pondered loosely as she set to work wielding obedient threads, about Lochan and Rakt just before introduced, the curious companion’s kept by Ashamin now; then about her own sisters. Nay, the young filly couldn’t say she was familiar with the burden of isolation – at least not the sort the herd-stallion referred to. “There’s always someone passing us by,” she hummed cheerfully afterwards, sparing him the swiftest of smiles before turning her eyes again to the sarong. Each morning, the jovial sound of early-birds greeting the dawn roused the siblings from slumber, each night the chilling murmur of nightlife stirring to wake saw them bed beneath the sanctuary of web quickly; though seldom did others of Ashamin and Zahra’s kind delve into these cool, damp forest depths, there was always someone or something to acknowledge.  

She had missed his point entirely.

The tiny bark spider worked vigorously to restore the vast drapes as they began to unravel and descend. Though only the most discerning eye (or counterpart mind) might pick her miniscule body amid the shifting shadow, the silk Ilham produced swayed and gleamed noticeably as she tethered each length. It was a beautiful creation, and deceptively strong – unlike the lesser constructs seen commonly throughout the regions.

For a small time, Zahra fell silent and the intensity of her concentration became easily apparent. As magic brewed from deep within bubbled and surged through her throbbing veins, the world around her seemed to fall to the wayside; to fade away and become like only a very distant dream (not even as real as the visions that stalked her at night). Each breath inhaled seemed slower, silent – almost as though she were entering a state of hibernation painted skin twitched and flinched subtly, and narrowed eyes were set steadfastly upon her craft.

It wasn’t at all her intention to ignore their guests.

Only when the sarong had been renewed and reinforced to the best of her ability (at least without making a new one entirely), and the appearance visibly freshened, did Zahra seem to tumble from her coma. Brightening eyes lifted quickly, catching in their pale yellow midst a stream of soft sunlight. “All pretty again!” she grinned, lifting her sunken frame from the dank, musty earth to stand once more. As though the conversation had not been interrupted to begin with, the young girl began to speak. “…a Da?” Such an idea seemed queer to the yearling; her own Da – Midas, had seemed so much older than Ashamin. Asha was a friend… Still, she felt as though there was a new aura about him and it caused a warm smile pull at the wrinkled corners of her mouth. “You seem…” Thoughtfully she let her gaze swim between his bottomless black eyes. There was nothing really left of the wounded soul by the lake. “…good now,” she concluded earnestly – eloquence wasn’t her strength.

do you live for the summer or spring?
because you don't feel like winter to me
you came through this town like a breeze
do you live for the summer or spring?