T
R
I
S
T
A
N

He was still growing. Still filling out. How big was he going to get?

The young Prince's legs were thickening at the knees, his hooves still too small for the rest of his growing body, hind end growing taller far faster than his withers could keep up with. He was an awkward looking thing at one season old, but Tristan did his best to not let it stop him. Gangly, lanky, the sooty buckskin colt looked like nothing more than a growing youngster to the common eye, but to him, well... He felt awkward.

Weird.

Different. Always different.

His left eye continued to be quite bothersome, itching and aching, and still nothing he could think to do could soothe it. No amount of scratching or pawing could bring him relief. Destrier and Romani had tried nearly everything they could think of as well, from swabbing it with cool water (which helped only temporarily), or mixes of medicinal herbs that sometimes stung something fierce and smelled so awful it made him sneeze.

And the flies! Oh, how Tristan loathed the flies.

They must've thought it was quite the fun game, buzzing around his head only to land on the deformed eyelid of his left eye, biting and being quite the nuisance. The youngling had decided then and there, if there were Gods, that they must've been quite insane to make flies exist. Stupid little black buzzing beasts...

It was early one morning that the sooty Prince found himself wandering alone from the sides of his parents, nibbling on a few strands of greenery whenever he passed. It wasn't near as delicious as Romani's nutritious milk, but the Haflinger had stated, quite forcefully, that since he was growing he would need to learn to forage and eat grass like the rest of them. Not that Tristan was put out by that... Just disappointed.

Still, a Prince he was and a Prince he had to act, so sucking up his disappointment -- and the yearning for the taste -- he had ventured off to find something that might soothe his left eye. It had woken him up with it's stupid nagging, and he was growing more and more annoyed with it.

"Stupid thing... Stupid, stupid, stupid."

What he hadn't counted on, however, was encountering another on that particular morning. The colt's striking turquoise eyes widened minutely when he happened upon an ivory lady who must've been helping herself to breakfast. Who was she? Was she a member of the herd, too? Upon his rump, the tuft of ombre hairs flicked at the prospect of meeting another herdmate. She was a pretty lady, all white like the clouds sometimes in the sky, and he smiled, opened his mouth to call to her... And then shied back, embarrassed.

What if she thought him strange? Or nasty? Because of his eye...? But maybe she knew of something to help? But what if she was too busy to help him? Or didn't like him?

"E-excuse me...?" Tristan asked, his tone cracking with hesitance, "Um... Miss? My... My name's Tristan, and, uh... I was wondering if you could help me? Please?"