04-04-2017, 08:42 PM
She hatched.
Who hatches from an egg?
She did.
There had been more than she thought necessary at her hatching, and they had stared at her with greedy hungering eyes as if they expected something more fantastical than her. That was the first time she laid eyes on disappointment so plainly etched upon someone’s face as it had been on the older colt’s sneering disdainful veneer. But then, the mare had bid her to come and shunted her forth rather unceremoniously and brooked no balking from the hatchling. Most of the eggshell had been licked clean off her by the mare and she had been shoved back towards an inviting and sagging teat that gave her delicious milk to guzzle long and deep of.
She took a long nap afterwards, at the mare’s feet. Napped and dreamt, and thought nothing more of her strange beginning - who hatches? She heard the murmurs but made little sense of them because to her, she’d been an egg a lot longer than she’d been a horse. But the mare grew crabby and sore, her own foal still sitting thick and heavy in her girth but not dropping further into place and eventually the mare shooed the little hatchling off. “Go explore,” she barked, furious at only herself and her lingering pregnant state and gave nothing more to the hatchling then a warning to be back before dark and a word that she took to be her name, Spavin.
Dispatched to places of ill repute and ill regard, she traipses through the cracks and crevices of the eyesore that is the land around her. She thinks adventure shall slay the tedium but no one wants to adventure with her, not even those creepy mean colts that stared at her like she had two heads. Paused, in a most ungracious manner of splayed legs and heaving sides and tiny meaningless snorts, she realizes that no boundaries where given her - no orders to not stray outside the Pangean wastes. Tickled by this notion, she gives a little kick and darts off on a merry path of her own making and perhaps, steered by a tinier unseen hand of fairy-fate, she finds the place that all the foals have discovered.
Luckily for her, they’ve also all gathered conveniently around in one big group.
Normally, a bevy of bright small beings like themselves might have given her pause and cause to balk at joining them but Spavin is puffed up and high on her own proud decision to go exploring further than she ought to have. It is that sense of freedom and disobedience that renders her giddy and her golden eyes bright like two shiny new coins in her painfully plain face. She is a little hesitant at first, as she nears them because they are many and distracting in their bright colors and their loud talk - something about harm, butterflies, and something else... Oh, games! Games are fun, she thinks, or they sound fun at least because she’s only had herself to entertain well, herself. Unless they count chase-the-wind and touch-your-tail as games… she gives a quick shake of her head to break herself from her train of thought, and then the little bay hatchling walks over to them, hanging back on the periphery of their circle.