...WAIT.

Just wait a second. Is he crying? From this angle, it sort of looks like he is. ...do... Princes do that? I roll this idea around uncertainly in my mind. On the one hand, I've never really met a prince before, so I can't really be sure. Maybe this is what Mama means about stallions being sensitive? I always thought sensitive meant when your rub up against a tree too hard, or you get a rock stuck in your hoof - 'cuz then it's sensitive. Oh! That must be it! Joy floods through me as I suddenly understand what is going on here: My prince is hurt! Well, of course he is! Because I can heal; and how would I be able to show him my magic, unless he was injured!

I am ecstatic now. A prince, and I get to be the hero.

I dance closer, and now can see that he is no longer crying - my sweet prince, trying to be brave for me. It simply warms my heart to see him so....or at least, I think it does. I'm not sure, all I can feel is a sort of knot of happiness in my throat. But later, when I tell Ru about this, I will tell her that it warmed my heart, to see him putting on a brave face for me. He walks towards me slowly - probably he's trying to figure out how he will retail this story later to his friends too. Maybe he even has a twin, for Ru (Gods, I do everything for her)!

Now he is asking who I am. A million things flood my mind; shall I tell him I am a princess? But no...I remember Mama telling Ru and I a story about that...the girl tells the prince she is a princess and of course they fall in love. But then her evil step-mother tells the prince that she isn't a princess and so she has to run away. But...in the end he doesn't care anyways. Will my prince be like that? My silver-flecked eyes wash over him, as I try to appear thoughtful and wise. I move towards him, trying to appear as light on my feet as I can. "I am Raeden." I say, trying to make my name sound as foreign and mystical as I can. As I move closer to him, lightning seems to course through my veins -(or maybe it's my magic!). "I am here to heal you" I say, trying to inject my voice with maturity and poise.

I look at him as if I have been expecting him, that he has come to me, even though I came forward to meet him. Now that he is closer, his spots aren't so bad; maybe when have grown old together, I will look at him fondly and say, "You know..." and tell him how I disliked his spots at first, but how they have grown on me. Even now they are growing on me (sort of...but a few less would be better).