the desert cherub

The moonlight was hauntingly beautiful, in its own way. I didn't what sunlight looked like, what it felt like. I stood by the pillar of flames that marked the heart of my home, my curious cocoa eyes taking in its golden, red, yellow, amber brilliance, wondering if it was a fair representation of the Sun which was absent from the skies above. Having never seen it for myself, I could only imagine what the world looked like when such a brilliantly bright force hung in the heavens. Others spoke of a heat, one that made sweat gather upon one's hide without so much as a shift of movement. The fires brought warmth and heat, but as I explored the vast stretches of my home, the distance grew between myself and the enflamed pillar, and the heat dispersed. The temperature was not uncomfortably chilly, but neither was it warm. It was strangely neutral, vacant, as if it were up to the individual to decide how they were feeling. A shiver ran down my spine, but not from the heat. It was from the prospect of something happening in the near future, something completely strange and unknown. This was the world as I knew it, the world I had been born into - I was nervous for the rise of the Sun, that would inevitably come.

But today was not the day the Sun rose, today was but another day. My wings grew stronger, as did my limbs, my body, even my brain seemed to be growing every day. While no-one said it out loud, I had a firm idea of who my father was, for he was a constant shadow, a protector from afar, a watcher, a guardian over me and my mother. My mother, well, she was brilliant, so clever and insightful, so dedicated to her rank as Artisan. I was torn between my parents, though I know not if they saw it. I wanted to build, to create, like my mother did, but then I also wanted to be strong, to protect and defend that which was important to me. If I were able to vocalise my thoughts, I'm sure some would say I have rather heavy thoughts for one so young - as it was, they were merely passing ideals, not thoughts so much as a collection of dreams, of desires and wants. Stretching my wings out to either side of my growing shoulders, I walked along my sandy home, drifting from the side of my mother and those who would babysit me. She said our defenders had fought off invaders, fiends who would take our home from us, and everyone was a bit tense as a result.

I had not seen danger, I did not know what danger meant. I tried to understand it, to comprehend how it would feel to lose our home, to lose everything I knew. I suppose it felt similar to the idea of the Sun rising for the first time in my life.

A curiously coloured steed came into my vision. I had not seen one of his hue before - but then, I was still so young, I had not been alive long enough to be exposed to many of any hue besides that of my mother, my father, and myself. Even the only other mare I had met was the same hoary tone as my mother. A smile adorned my façade, as I tossed my tiara playfully and bounced forth into a trot, tucking my wings tight against my flanks, swishing my two toned brush of a tail against my plump rump. "Hello!" My youthful, gentle tones touched the air. I did not notice that he had been determinedly walking towards a gathering, that he was distracted, absorbed by whatever his mind busied itself with. I angled myself before him, beaming a great big grin, openly curious, friendly, and hoping for similar treatment in return. "Who're you?" I ask, completely unaware of the slightly forward manner of my greeting and question, the slightly rude way I neglected to give my own title before requesting this steed for his. Nevertheless, I am all smiles and innocence, and excitedly, I await a reply.