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"Who you." It is probably foolish of me to ask impertinent questions to a stallion when I am so young, and it is probably hot-headed of me to saunter up to him and stare up at him, fearless. It's probably stupid of me to stay so close to the border so young, but I do it anyway, because it is boring being in the oh-so-safe center of my small world. I stare up at him, crystal blue eyes cynical, just hiding a smile under my golden lips, wondering what he will say and what he will do.
He is white. Silver, really, with blue painted bits. I don't like the color combination. I don't like the way his marking over the eye goes. It seems... sinister, my small mind gropes. I'm not sure why. It shouldn't be. He isn't that big, not really. He definitely still has the lanky, awkward build of a yearling. I hope I won't ever stretch like that, but I guess I already am, with my skinniness and long-leggedness. If there is one thing I take note of, one reason to like him, is that he holds a horn like dad. Maybe dad isn't the only way who gets to keep his horn. I hope this means I can keep mine too. I should save my question for daddy, so I can hear him laugh when I ask and tell me the answer softly in quiet surprise, but I can't bear to keep still, and the question bursts out. "Do I got to keep horn too?" I stumble over my words, skipping over the possessive 'my' and struggling to keep the tense right. I hope he understands. Even with my youth, I know that my disjointed, mumbling language, so awkward and choppy, is nothing like the fluency of mother or father. Or any adult, for that matter, a fact I regret. I have so many questions and not enough words.
I want to move. I want to explore. If only I knew what exactly I wanted to learn, or where I wanted to go. But I don't. I want to find, and seek, and move back and forth, feeling the earth under my feet and seeing the landscapes. What landscapes? I'm not sure about that, either. Dad could tell me a story, probably, about all the fantastical things here and there. I should ask him for that, a tale about the many things in this world. Maybe there are too many though. Too many things... if I have to choose, which would I choose? Autumn. It's my first autumn. What will winter look like? What is winter? What is snow? Why do the leaves fall? Why are they turning russet and why are they rustling? Too many questions. Not enough words. Why is dad gray? Why is it getting colder? Are we the only herd? How did Mirage became the DragonHeart? Who is the new leader? I don't understand enough.
I am being flooded by things I do not know, still do not know, even being two weeks old. When will I learn the answers to these questions?
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