A distant rumbling shook the ground she quietly stepped upon, the vibrations becoming more prevalent until the quaint mare noticed a very tall, robust brute standing before her. He rumbled past ferns that she imagined had shed a beautiful shamrock color with specks of gold dusting off of; in symbolism of the diminutive pollen sacks stuck to their extensive leaves. This, paired with the stallion’s own (imagined) aura gave her an intrinsic calming and she felt less guarded than usual. Sanaa was always an agreeable mare, one who would rather go with the flow than cause any mystification or dilemma. This equine’s baritone voice struck through the hush of the forest in that of innumerable measure, just as his piercing blood-red orbits did to her cooling, cerulean ones. She felt faint of heart for a moment, as he asked her if she was in need of a home. ‘Home’, she thought and her mind sang an old Dorobo lullaby that crowded the background of her thoughts as she parted her velvets to reply. “I suppose,” she began, the mare’s visage took a dip towards the forest floor in a gesture of shame although she had no reason to be. There was something different she felt from this gladiator – was it that he wasn’t happy? Satisfied? She felt something, yet did she feel strongly enough to bring it up?

The inspired aura that came off in clouds from this stag were of crimson and deep eggplant. His colors did not merge and she felt them reel around her in an almost seductive sense, although to this she paid no mind. She was young and contrary to most not naïve at all; and certainly Sanaa had not experienced love just yet, but could sense a lust (at least coming from herself) towards this brujo. Sanaa knew to keep her wits about her and just tell things as they were in her delicate manner – this was always the best, staying true to herself had kept her alive and well so far. A ped stepped towards the stallion, she felt his speech was off and so she decided to make it known. “Tell me what you would really like to say.” Sanaa meant this in the most innocent sense, yet her tone dripped with sexuality that she was unaware of. She smiled genuinely at the man’s appearance, his scars trying to tell her stories of his past. Her twin pools glistened like a candlestick being gently blown out and at that moment a colt came bustling out of the thicket.

In a lemon yellow vibrating aura, this chocolate colored young was screeching about a monster. Sanaa’s lobes pricked straight up, the unicorn colt seeking shelter behind her and she turned her nape to see his frightened expression as he began crying for his matron. She stuttered, as this took her by surprise, and did not manage a sentence while she then turned to face this babe; her attention now focused on him, her bodice placed close next to the equine. The young one was weeping and Sanaa reached towards him, her untouched plush wiping away the crystal drops rolling down his cheeks. “Oh darling.” Her expression of sympathy was hopefully making the little one feel better, yet this was Sanaa’s first experience with a foal. The unicorn mare glanced back towards her first acquaintance and shrugged, attempting to find an answer in his sharp orbs. The sunlight wavered upon them; the canopies shaking in a passing gust of wind that let Sanaa envision more auras placing themselves around them. She stared into the colt’s wet orbits and sought reasoning behind this act, for just like the giant onyx stallion, something was not properly placed here.

Sanaa examined the colt as he wept and shook, his coat mimicking those of Dorobo patterns. Perhaps this is what helped her decide on giving the babe the benefit of the doubt. She chose to speak softly to him, “I’m sure it was just a forest creature, young one, no need to fright now.” This was coming more naturally than she could have thought, “Where is your dam…or sire? Where do you belong?” Sanaa took a step backwards, placing herself unknowingly closer to the stallion, she was unaware of her movements but becoming more aware of how good his make believe aura felt on her own. Before her she gathered in the other pretend auras: that bright yellow that erupted from the foal was becoming a foggy white and she felt her own glittering mauve falling off of her antelope horns. The strongest, though, was this stag’s. Her whole frame was being enveloped by it, and it was confusing and comforting and displaced Sanaa a bit. She awaited the colt’s reply, but could not help but ache for the stallion’s more.