Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna

It was pride that turned angels into devils

The snivelling yearling with the speckled golden belly paused at once and thick snow-white lashes fought vigorously to clear the pooling tears from raw, bloodshot eyes. Zahra’s sooty, dimpled chin lifted too from the soft warmth of the kitsune’s downy coat, drawn from the pits of despair by the uncannily familiar voice; so recognised in fact, that the throbbing heart within her chest nearly burst through prickling skin. The friend she felt so deeply for was striding towards her, smile fading it seemed into a widening void of uncertainty, and quickly she pushed a weary smile into her expression - anything to see the brightness restored to his wonderfully brave face. 
 
"Ze-ro!" she almost shrieked in a bid of fractured desperation; he was there already, greeting with the same gentle concern that had first dimmed her fears that night so long ago when she had waited for her mother beneath the old tree. Hanna was rising, four tails twirling, wagging chaotically in greeting, for he was perhaps the only other hoofed creature in this world she thought well of. Whimpering gleefully she bounced about his front-quarters, tongue scrambling to find the taste of his face as it wandered nearer to her weeping sister, but Zahra soon summoned her canine counterpart’s notice away.
 
The painted yearling took a deep breath as the colt’s small muzzle brushed across one sodden cheek, touching towards him in tender greeting with her own, as he lowered to lie against her outer wing. "I don’t know how it can be ok…” she started rather too quickly, tears rising like molten lava to sting her blinking eyes as they danced unhappily across her own curled knees beneath. Zero’s wing came to rest steadily across her childish frame, and so too did the sound of his encouragement across her wandering ears. "Yep,” she answered easily, free of adult inhibition and more than relieved to find herself again in his company.
 
For a second, she let her eyes scan the periphery – the hedge of tall grass surrounding – but she was sure they were alone.
 
“I miss Ma and Da…” Zahra began heavily, but it was truly more than that, so very much deeper than a child could express. “…I wish they were here – b’cause then I wouldn’t have to carry around his stuff (lips nibbled across the silver piece jutting awkwardly above her withers as the ground pressed against it) and all these feathers, all the time. If they were here too, maybe they would stop filling up my sleep with stories, scary ones, and everything would really be ok.”
 
The curve of her body slumped softly, further into his warm embrace and for a moment it seemed as though the smoke spiralling above were the cover of night coming to hide them once again. "Where’ve you been anyway?” She mumbled fondly thereafter, remembering the last time they had really spoken (before she had wandered with Camon) – when the stranger with the intimidating eye and the questioning tongue had witnessed the first perfect instance of her art.