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I had always been told that foals had a knack for leaving a trail of destruction in their wakes. Having not had much to do with foals myself, I always assumed this was an exaggeration, a joke, a ridiculous generalisation.
As I walk through my woods, I realise it has the ring of truth. As the mists trail behind my leonine tail, my eyes scour the destruction wrought by what would surely be a great hoarde of beasts - but it contained only, one distinctive scent, with another, not dissimilar scent lingering nearby it. They were both foreign scents, and at that realisation, a frown folded my brow, and my delicate limbs were urged into swifter motion.
My pale form approaches, and in my wake, the mists seem to get thicker, the walls of the Edge closing down upon the strangers, the intruders. We do not take kindly to those that would ignore the borders, but upon lifting my ears to the voice of the older femme - the mother, I gather - I can see that she is aware of her crime. That, at least, says something about the intelligence of the beings before me. But still, she seems content to linger and stay trespassing, instead of remedying her error and vacating the lands as soon as possible. She mentioned a longing to join, but she was right, it would have been better if they had the sense to respect the borders.
Could I forgive the mistake of a youth, when it had been so long since I was considered young myself? I often forgot the significance of my learned years. A sigh tumbled from my lips as I pushed myself from the cusp of the treeline, horn held proud before me, neck arched to better angle my eyes to view the painted pair. My violet gaze does not waver as it pierces their own, as sharp and direct as the point of the cliff of my home that looks to the western horizon.
"What are you doing here?" My deep voice is not unkind, but neither is it overly welcome. I know more about them then I let on, for I find it always best to feign ignorance and gain more information before passing true judgement. The mare was lucky that her filly foal was youthful, for if the mistake had been made by any other, I would not be holding my judgement so easily.
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