I had gotten a little lost. You, my reader, might have noticed the scatterbrained tendencies that I have at times. Indeed, I love to watch the world. I could stare at the sky for hours and just watch the clouds in their slow migration from one horizon to the next. This might make me spacey, even airheaded as I find so much appreciation in doing nothing but watching. Sight is the more powerful sense in my humble opinion, and that is perhaps reflected in the way I admire its ability to consume and analyze the world. My love for viewing, however, had left me a few minutes behind my mother.

"Mother?" my voice rings out suddenly when I realize that no one is standing by my side any longer. Even Bear has scurried away in the past few moments as not to lose sight of her, and so I find my legs scrambling into movement, my growing wings flopping about to maintain my balance on still unsturdy limbs. They grew stronger and straighter, losing the crooked bow that captured them almost completely in my early life. Now, I move more freely, and this is good, or else I would be stranded in this wintery forest with no way of leaving.

I begin to pull forward at a trot, following prints in the snow until I can hear voices. Out of respect and because I hear mother's voice, I slow to a walk to avoid making too much of a ruckus while returning to the side of my beautifully dark mother. There are two others with her, and the cutting words ring out of her throat. I see that Bear is quick to nudge her into kindness, and I smile with delight. I make quiet steps toward her side, falling in next to Bear and looking up at her innocently, with a hint of sheepish guilt. I hope she had not noticed my absence, but it was rare that mother left anything I did unnoticed.

I listen to mother's words that come next, looking toward the stallion she is addressing. He looks young, I think, but older than myself and even mother. There is a youth in his stance that is undeniable, though, and I feel that perhaps we are all comrades here. He was highly contrasted with the white of the forest, but this fellow had no wings like the mare standing off to the side of the group, nor had he horns like mother or myself. I tilt my head slightly but keep a small smile. He reminds me of Lace, the stallion I had met in the Heart the day I wondered from mother's side.

"Mother knows many here," I say after she has finished speaking, a small voice, but confident here at the side of both Bear and her. "She can definitely help you."
""