"Sitka." The name appears upon my lips before I even process its origins within my tiara. It is as if another has taken control of my tongue, and orchestrates the sounds it produces against my will. Only, the name is not against my will. This is something that feels wholly correct, something that I have not realised felt absent previously.

The thrum of a heartbeat sounds in my chest, yet, it is not my own heartbeat. Surprise registers upon my face, and I wonder what has brought up this uplifted, illuminated feeling. It is as if an entirely new being is forcing itself within me, only the force is welcome, it is pleasant, if new and unknown.

Hunger, a severe and deep hunger pervades my thoughts, and suddenly I am ravenous for the rotting flesh that lies before me. I take a step nearer, glancing to the blue and black pup feasting upon the meals. His piercing azure gaze strikes my own, our eyes matched for hue, as striking and electric as the sky is blue on a clear day. I get lost amongst this stare, my footsteps have stopped, and I am within my own body once more, feeling my own satiated hunger - a hunger for grass, not for meat and blood.

My mouth hangs agape as he walks to my side then, his slim, ribby build leans against me. The short, wiry fur that sparsely decorates his hide rubs against my own thick, wintry coat. Skeletons of his meal lie before my feet, and while he is content, he is so young and thin, I know that we will need to find shelter soon. But for now, I lower my soft muzzle to his small form, and rub it against him fondly.

It is love, I am sure of it, that makes me feel so devoted to him already. A happiness swells within me, a strength I did not know I contained, causes my wings to abruptly spread, a joyful skip is given, as he chases after my hooves, his overly large paws tumbling him about.

A small frown creases my brow, for I realise that he does not have wings; he will not be able to take to the skies by my side. A small huff, and I say, quite simply, "that won't do, will it?" The gift of flight was something I took for granted now, as all Pegasi did, but I remember meeting Andash, I remember what my father said about him, when he first came, he had a deformed wing. But it had been mended - perhaps , dearest Sitka, we could quest to give you wings so that you could fly with me?

Still, a happiness, sheer and complete, overwhelms me, it flows across my mask in the form of a broad and honest smile. I fold my legs, so that I can be at the same level with him, and he comes to me, his tail wagging slowly, the expression upon his face similar to my own. I know it is happiness I can see, for I can feel it too, this complete, and wholesome sensation, that when we are together, nothing can ever stop us.

He presses himself against my neck, which curves around him protectively, and he becomes no more than a ball of vibrant black and blue fur curled against my hide of patchy clouds and sky. My wings fold against me, but the nearest one to him remains slightly extended, so that we might be covered from some of the weather, that could change so unexpectedly.

Just wait until my family meet you, Sitka!