I will find my soul.

There was another horse. She appeared, coat wrinkled with seat, wet-eyed, soft-eyed. Teary-eyed. The Lignea stopped, watched her warily, ears twitching forward, muzzle wrinkling slightly. A palomino, much like Bluegrass- but this palomino was without the mane tangled with long grasses and the beard made of it. Equine. Certainly not Lignea. For a moment, Blue wanted to run, run away from the predator who ate her precious grasses, before she contained the urge and spoke up, very quietly and shyly.

"Are you alright? You don't look very well." Blue looked down at her hooves, very shyly, soft-spoken as well. Even in all her seventeen years, she had never become outgoing or confident. It simply wasn't in her nature. She half-noticed the patterns of grass below her, something she was always quite aware of- soft green grass, dark blades and bright blades, one or two longer stemmed ones. But none of her soul plant type of grass. Seconds later, more like minutes later, the palomino added- "Yes, I guess I am new to... Huh.. Heh... Helo-veeah?" Her sense of time was so very different, often creating disjointed converstations. "I'm Bluegrass... uh... um... you can call me Blue."

I will find my soul.

Bluegrass shifted, uncomfortable at the scrutiny she was being put under. She had never been one for attention, preferring to go unknown in a herd, relatively quiet and peaceful. Not... not under such careful eyes that seemed to judge her silently. The elders may have put her under such a telescope, but they weren't predators. They wouldn't... they weren't... cannibals. At least she seemed nice 'nuff. Maybe she was tricky thieve. But Blue didn't think so. Mares weren't normally, at least the few she had met in her weary-legged travels from Prim'Sylvia. Romani said she came from the Windtossed Foothills. Those small, fluffy ears pricked in interest. So maybe she wasn't so bad. Her grass grew in the Foothills- maybe that was where her soul was?

"I'm... looking for... my soul?" Bluegrass began nervously, before stopping. What did she say? That her life, as far as she knew, depended on a blade of Canadian Bluegrass somewhere in Helovia? She could be eaten without being chomped on? How, exactly, did one explain the relationship to a predator without, without... without... um... how? "I... I... um..." She managed before her tongue was tied in knots. Embarassed by her lack of confidence, the slender mare looked down, cheeks crawling with red heat. "I... uh... a Lignea. Gramunus, if you, er, want to be, uh, specific." Did she need to talk about having a plant to save? Or would that be strange. Another minute, two, trickled past before the Lignea began to speak again. "I come from... far away. I need... a home. To find... my soul plant and to... protect it?" The quiet mare lifted her eyes hesitantly, before dropping them back to her hooves. She shuffled her feet uncomfortably. No prey likes to be under the eye of the predator.

I will find my soul.

Was it Blue, or did the mare... Romani... look confused? She seemed to understand at least the 'home' bit. The Lignea blushed more, scuffling her feet in the dirt more. She lifted her head- oh, Romani seemed so tall for a moment! But a smile softened her regal features and she said, so kindly, offering the Lignea a home. "Oh thank you, Romani. That would be lovely." She would never shout or cry out, but her words stopped stuttering, finally joining together well instead of being fearful.

And when Romani spoke of grass, the mare's blue eyes widened in surprise and care. "Really, Romani? That would be lovely! I might be able to find my soul plant after all!" She was still hardly speaking in more than a whisper- but you could hear the excitement in Blue's sweet voice. "Can you lead me to it, please?"