I arrive within the Heart in a scatter of bird wings as a flock of sparrows descends. I hop around the ground on small feet, wings a blur that scatters ink droplets as they move so fast. I peck experimentally at the ground, as I have seen birds do, but my beak flattens against the unyielding soil. Persistent I continue to stir through the towering field of grass and the edge of the Heart, but much to my disappointment there are no glittering gems ripe for the picking on this topsoil.

Frustrated and mostly just lazy, the sparrows dart back together, whirling in the air for a minute before re-emerging as a badger. I fall to the earth with silence, ink staining my seat in a ring of black. I ignore the obvious information this tells me, proceeding to wear into the ground with my able claws. Though onyx in color they may be, in substance they are not. The inken paws mash against the dirt, but again it does not stir.

Useless I think with a grim line spreading on my facade. Huffing in quiet defeat I disperse into a rain of darkness, pattering upon the soil with a soft hush. For a while I am content to remain this ruined pool of substance slowly leaking into the soil, but it will not assist me in my needs. Grunting inwardly I yank myself back into composure, the ink building me back into a horse of flesh and blood and whatever else I'm made of (misery and bitterness).

I slam a hoof against the topsoil. I find with some modicum of satisfaction that it finally begins to yield. Yet the indention is mild and I know I will be left to dig for a while. Resigning to my fate with a whistle of breathe passing my nose, I begin to paw with a pace against the heated dirt, eyes sharp for the glimmer of a gemstone being revealed.

So intent am I in my work, hooves diligently chipping away at hard earth that resists me, that I do not notice Kaj until his voice crawls up my spine and slips into my ears.

I startle, head flinging skyward and body shuddering with ill-contained motion. In one instant I am ready to bolt and to flee, but in the same fraction of that moment my reason drowns out my instinct and I stutter at a standstill. Tense muscles gradually begin to uncoil as the familiar face registers in my mind eye further, producing a sheepish smile from my lips for my foolish response. I am normally not so jumpy, but being focused tends to make you forget the rest of the world.

I stroke out a lion for him in an easy movement of my tail. The black cat with its regal mane leaps forward and playfully jumps around the pegasus in my method of greeting. I must say I am thrilled to see him. His strength surpasses mine and I wonder if he'd be more capable at unearthing the... earth. Of course this really should be my task since it will be my reward, but again the laziness overwhelms me and I am reminded that friendship is for this very incident, having others help you with deeds you find unsavory.

I grin.

As I move to begin to try and explain, I am interrupted by the abrupt and rather graceless introduction of a stranger. Her absurd position on the ground would normally strike me as comical, but I find my mirth rather lacking considering it appears she'd been spying from the brush. I am instantly wary that she is some spy of the Basin attempting to stealth us away from our homes. My inky lion turns from its joyful romping with Kaj to lung in front of us both, a silent roar bellowing from its gaping maw.

My eyes have become suspicious slits of glittering onyx, my ears straining so far forward they may be likely to pop off my skull, but once more my reason comes to my rescue. If she is a sneak she is a terrible one, to end up in a situation like this, and already I can see the worry tracing along her facial structure as she is likely fraught with embarrassment and anxiety. If she isn't careful she'll get old mare wrinkle lines before her time.

I quirk a smile on my lips and disperse the lion to black butterflies that drift lazily towards her, an apology for my rash reaction. I bow my neck and loosen my stance to one more casual, glancing coyly at her from the corner of my vision as I try and focus on Kaj's reaction.

Meanwhile the earth isn't digging itself up.

An amused sort of line flutters onto my lips as an ear turns towards Kaj. I cannot help but wonder if he always speak so little, or if he's influenced by my silent company. Normally the quiet goads others to prattle on needlessly or to raise their voice, as if I'm hard of hearing and not dumb of tongue.

A few however, like Kaj, seem to adapt to my world.

For instance, rather than ask me what I'm doing Kaj meanders over to my dig site and thumps his large hoof against the ground with a questioning ring. I arch a 'brow at him, my mirth only expanding at this game of charades. I have always had the luxury of listening to others - never have I experienced the need to decipher. Of course I understand body language, likely better than most, but it has always been a supportive knowledge for me, not wholesome. I have always had my eyes and my ears to listen, but now Kaj has snuffed the latter out.

Kaj has become me, and I him.

Were it a different scenario and me the question asker rather than the giver, I might have felt more uncomfortable and better understood the frustration of my peers when dealing with me. As it is I brush towards him effortlessly; my steps go unheard save for the kiss of wet fluid being left on grasses which spring back to height.

I glance sidelong at the mare - Ree, she said her name is - as I position myself back above my meager indentation. I am glad she did not run off, as her flesh seemed to suggest she was in want to do before (who can blame her?). Boyishly I wonder what she thinks of us, Kaj and I, but perhaps selfishly I'm especially curious what she thinks of me. Did she like my little butterflies? Do I enchant her, or is my lack of speech a grotesque deformity and a display of weakness?

I sigh.
It's a low dismal sound; the noise of my brief affections for the pretty mare deflating under the weight of my unsubstantialities.

I wrench my attention back to my task at hoof, reminded how eager I am to complete it now that the pain of self-worth, or lack thereof, eats away at my conscious like a raw scab on a knee. I throw a black gaze to Kaj to instruct his attention, and then I drive my hood down purposefully into the ground. As I do this my ink has poured under my hoof, and as I lift it I reveal my dark drawing of a hidden gemstone. Another strike - some ink squishing around my hooves by mistake - and as I draw away the ink gem rises and fits about Kaj's neck on a chain of dark water.

I'm looking for an amulet. Or at least, the stone of one. Two, actually.

Kaj has always proven easy to communicate with, and for that I am grateful. He grasps my message quickly, and without even needing to be asked in some round about manner of pictograms, he immediately sets himself to the task. He is the type that enjoys labor. Personally I've never been into the whole sweating thing.

His wings cocoon me for a moment and I am blinded by tawny feathers. It's a strange experience that causes me to seize up with the unfamiliarity, my muscles wound tight and body high and thin like a stretched out skeleton by the time he unwraps me. Somewhere along the way my feet shuffled over, but I don't recall.

Amid the chaos of motion I become aware that Kaj has introduced me, though I admit I am thoroughly shocked he knew my true name. Thus far only the gryphon Merakerr, what a lovely accent she has, knew what substance I produced and thus what namesake I am given. Until now it has always been a myriad of uncertain nicknames heralding my arrival, which although cute, had always been frustrating. I wonder if Kaj knows of ink substance as well, or if Merakerr has been flying around whispering it in the ears of those who met me. I like to think it's the latter, just for fun.

I glance slyly back at Kaj, the curiosity burning like dark fire in the pit of my gut, shining through my abyssmal eyes. I am distracted by the softer humm of my name from the larynx of the mare, Ree. I turn instantly, ears sharp with their alertness and eagerness to hear more of my name being murmured shyly by pretty girls. I tilt my head as she says nothing more and slowly my excitement begins to recede back into crushing self-doubt, but then she does something I hadn't expected and scooches closer. Just as I'm debating doing the same, she bends over the ground and begins to dig for me. Well, I think, there went that shot.

With my lower lip jutting out in mild disappoint I go to turn my own attention back to the dirt, but I pause, recognizing a difference in the sounds made by Kaj and Ree. Where his is a rhythmic thudding, Ree's is like a constant whine as hoof scours earth. I glance back towards her, unconsciously creeping right up beside her to watch what so intensely holds her focus. Before long she draws back. I am perplexed still, so I move back with her, more absorbed in this scenario than the abrupt proximity beside her.

It dawns on me then when I see it from afar and a happy quiver shudders from my nose. A butterfly I think with blossoming delight, and its as if they've all flooded into my gut and have begun to do summersaults with my soul. I glance excitedly back to Ree and with a few strokes of my tail have filled the vicinity around us with black butterflies of all kinds.
For the first time in my existence, I mourn the lack of color to my art. It has never bothered me before, but this mare, she deserves something a bit more pretty than the hue of shadows.

I smile at her as my drawings dance.

An unfamiliar noise just then causes my ear to tilt back, head soon following as I spy Kaj has discovered something. A gem, I think, and hope. Oblivious stallion that I am the butterflies disperse into black rain plummeting to the ground and I pull away from the mare at my side to investigate Kaj's dig site.

Unfortunately, we can only learn gratitude for kindness through experiencing cruelty. We know not how to smile, until we have first learned to frown. We cannot begin to love, until we have befriended neglect. Why it is life ensures we must subjugate ourselves to the darkest of natures before valuing the light I cannot know, but an evident truth I have found it to be.

Partly, I think we are just made that way, or somehow we become that way. In tallsun we often complain of the heat and long for the coolness of winter to sweep our sweat away. Yet once the moons do turn and the frostfall has arrived, we only stomp our feet in bitterness at the cold, cursing it in the same breath we beg for the warmth of summer.

I wonder what drives us to remain eternally unsatisfied. I'd like to cut it out of me.

That is neither here or now though, well at least not entirely, it really is everywhere and always, but that's beside the point. What does matter, what has absorbed the entirety of my focus, is the gleaming tip of a gem beneath the strong hoof of the lion. I raise my head from its bowed position between the two, excitement sparkling easily in my eyes which soon transfers to a playful, and rather pathetic, buck. My nape rolls as my head twists, fore hooves lifting off the earth briefly before I pounce back down on them into the ground.

In my eagerness for the gem I lose my balance, toppling somewhat into Ree. I fold like a gangly colt against her side, flanks heaving with my abrupt exertion and lack of physical fitness. I'm grinning like an idiot, partly intoxicated by her presence and her attentions, though my mind seems set on ignoring them in favor of the gems, which truthfully, though thrilling to me, do not match the significance of Ree.

As is the twisted will of life however, my eyes are only trained on the hole in the ground, though my pelt still lingers near to Ree, perhaps still brushing hers if she didn't move away. I feel a moment of bliss, but it will only be that, a moment.