crying out for what was done
Bathsheba tread close to her mother’s side as the black mare wound her way through the congregation; somehow her mother always seemed to command that kind of attention. It was a small note of pride that she fanned as often as it came around and Sheba ducked her head with a small smile. ‘if I might make a suggestion…’ mother began before branching off into things the girl-child did not understand, words that made no sense to the chugging imagination of her head. While it was aimed toward the strange, horned mare standing atop a stone overhang, Bathsheba allowed it to trail off into nothingness. Instead she glanced around, focusing on each of the animals present in the clearing. Some of them had more than one horn, some had wings, some had small creatures climbing and rifling about their spines. That is what truly caught the fillies attention, a small fluffy thing stuck rather firmly to a black stallions neck, it was something as she had never seen before and Sheba was enthralled.
Until she saw him.
A little horse, just like her, a foal. Only this foal had large, feathery wings resting softly at his side, a promise of size and a formidable future. Bathsheba wanted to go to him, to see him, to speak to him on a level she could cater to, but mother had been firm in her intentions. So she stayed put, opting to glance at him every chance she got, white eyes bright and curious. Perhaps if she stared long enough he would look her way?
NOTE: also don't mind her, just watching!