She turns her head ever so slightly away from her mother’s mane so her words don’t get too muffled. “I dunno. We’ve been walking forever. I felt like my legs were gonna fall off.” No doubt your mother was searching for a safer place for you to grow up.’ The filly nods then, turning her head further away from her mother. “Mama said that she wanted me to live somewhere I could grow big and strong.”
Again, she was slapped across the face. “I would never do that to mama! I’m not mean like you.” A stabbing pain, starting in the core of her heart, rips through her body, and she again buries her face into her mother’s side, pitiful whimpering escaping her as she cries again.
The sliding of more stones signals the approach of someone else. She just wants everyone to leave her alone. She almost wishes it was a wolf, because the sharp pearly whites would be so much less painful than the curt words of this awful mare.
Something comes close to her, and she doesn’t recognize the smell. She peeks shyly away from her hiding place, eyes rimmed red from the tears trailing down her face. She is then so suddenly startled by what she sees, the tears stop completely.
Her eyes grow wide, ears twisted and pressed forward, awestruck by the furry beast who came close. The noise he emitted was like the rolling of distant thunder. She was frozen. “What. Is. That.” She is ensnared, so overwhelmed by this creature, that for a moment she can’t help but be drawn away from her dead mother’s frame. Slowly she stands, never moving her honey gaze from him. A real life beaver wolf. He has a striking resemblance to the woman’s mark, so much so that it must be related. “Eytan,” she repeats, voice hushed but somehow still excited. Her fluffy dual-toned tail wags slightly, face still stretched with surprise. She looks, and is surprised that something comprised of two creatures has no tail. She had almost wished it had been one of those big loud flappy ones. “Mama never showed me one of these before.” She finally drags her stare from the companion and looks to Ktulu. “I don’t know where we were going. My mama said that we would know where we were going when we got there.” She looks back to the… the… the whatever he is, reaching out with a fluffy wing to try to touch his inquisitive nose. She then leans her own face towards his, her own nose wiggling to mimic his. It is evident that she has no fear. Though her heart still aches for her mother, she is consumed by the desire to learn more. If mother is gone, what does it matter?
She tips her head as she examines him. “Does he have a marking that looks like you?” Again she looks back to the mare. “I have a marking on my butt by my tail that if you squeeze your eyes little like this” —her eyes squint, brows furrowing— “It kinda looks like a weird cloud. Wanna see?” She looks at her rump, shaking her tail again, as the marking she speaks of is the same one that taints strands of her hair stark white against the onyx hues of the rest of it. Eyes again fall upon the red ones settled into the mare’s face. So many questions, and even though the mare has been mean (her mother must not have taught her any manners), she is the only one to answer the questions that she has.
And there are plenty.
That the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes.