Even in Birdsong, the eternal night carried on.

I missed the sun.

Ophelia was gone. I thought about it, not as frequently as the older members of the herd, who had joined long ago under her and Ktulu's banner. It wasn't right to Ophelia to leave us, to leave my mother. The Forsaken had been... she had been part of what had brought the Gray together, forged us into a cohesive unit rather than a bunch of rag-tag horses with no purpose. Ktulu had helped glue us together, certainly, but wasn't the silver-red mare what truly ignited our desire and passions? How could one not admire her, not like her? I'm too young for these heavy thoughts about what's right and wrong. My world isn't divided into black or white- there are only choices, no bad ones, only better ones. Pick your poison. Ophelia had left. Why should I- who hardly knew her- dwell on the thoughts any longer? All I needed to know was Apollo had some mighty big hoofprints to fill, and I was confident he could do it.

I flipped my mane over my crest, letting it settle in creamy waves, tipping my muzzle side to side until my long, pearl forelock was centered on my forehead. Lifting my sleek, shining tail, arching my neck, elevating my haunches, I made my way to the voice that had pulled me away from my dreaming, my steps deceptively light and carefree. Inwardly, I was practically sweating from the dreaded thought of tripping on the way up to my leader and my mother. I had to make Phaedra proud, and have her love me now, before I was maybe, one day, more beautiful and more strong and more sexually appealing than her (which might make her jealous since I would be young and pretty when she was getting old and wrinkly, though hopefully nothing would happen).

My mother was sparkling in the dark trees away, shining with an inner light, and adoration glowed in my heart. She was so breath-takingly beautiful, even scarred and battered. I didn't know how any stallion could stand to take their eyes off her- she was almost an angel on earth, especially when she turned on her sparkling, alluring magic.

"Mother, Apollo," I greet them formally, slowing to a walk as I neared the two, even as I let a cheeky sort of bright-eyed young smile liven up my face. My eyes, just a shade darker than Phaedra's, lift to meet Apollo's, a shine of curiosity giving them a bit of a rougish sparkle to them (I hoped). It was a look I had rehearsed over and over by the calm waters of pools left by heavy rains; a look I designed to attempt to be trustworthy and have a sort of... aura to me that was charming and innocent, one that some horses might take for dumb. If I was posing to look a little blonde, that was okay by me. They would see my outer kitten, not my inner vixen, the one that would carefully record every bit of information they told the foolish horse whom they did not expect to remember anything.