Open Come little children, I'll take thee away

Azar

The forest was dark in the early dawn. Each overlarge tree materialized from the earthen shadows, but also created its own deeper shadows, as the boughs high above stretched to the gradually lightening sky. The thinned clouds there were flared with rich pinks and corals, the only hint of the climbing sun, spaced as widely apart as the sentinel trees below. A hush was settled over the area, and even the morning birds still rested peacefully.

Only the bay roan foal seemed to be awake, tucked safely away within a dense thicket of brush. She lay where her mother left her, limbs folded neatly beneath her, swaddled in the darkness. Her head lifted, just another silhouette melding with the others, and looked through the blackness around her. A sound may have woken her, but it wasn't heard again. Still, she held silent, waiting. Hunger clawed at her belly, ignored for now in her caution. Her mother would come to feed her again after a while, and she had quickly learned patience.

The filly waited a few long moments more, and satisfied that she was alone, retreated. Her head naturally tucked back where it had been before, sheltered by the rim of her wing. It was warm and quiet there, safe. She shifted a little, settling in once more. The soft debris beneath her rustled quietly with her movements. She sighed gently, then again she waited, listening carefully for anomalies in forest's dawning atmosphere.

There it was, a suspect patter; a stirring close by. Her head raised swiftly and stilled. Little ears perched forward, fixated. The darkness had yet to lift, though it was slowly ebbing into tones of deep gray. She thought she saw a shadow moving, shifting within the forest as if it were part of it. The urge to stand battled at her walls of patience, instinct pushing her to desire a better stance for fleeing. But her air of caution was stronger, and she held as stationary as the thick trees of the forest.

Her eyes never stopped scanning, though she did not turn her head, leaving most her efforts of discernment to her sensitive ears. Scents brushed through her nose with each inhalation, but she couldn't grasp the outlier, the tickling stranger-smell hiding within all the others. Her ear swiveled right first, at another noise, and very slowly her head followed and paused. Waiting.

They are babies, and they think they have all the time in the world but time ticks by them in minutes slow as the movement of the stars in the night sky. Before he knows it, Spark is stirring at his feet and he has slept hardly a wink. Morning is distant though, a pale stain on the Tundra’s edge that has yet to reach them. Spear takes a step back and allows Spark to rise and meet him; their noses touch, they breathe one another in and blow each other back out again, their heads bent low and close as they talk of their dreams, or lack thereof. Spark is concerned that once again, Spear has kept watch as she slept - he cannot keep it up, he suffers already for his sleepless nights and Spark is growing more concerned by the moment.

“Spear,” she says softly, her nose traveling up his cheek and back down the expanse of his neck. He pulls his head away from her and looks towards the ice wall that keeps them in and others out (it keep the predators out, but horses still find their way in, he’s noticed). “I don’t want to talk about it Spark,” he cannot help the stern tone of voice that he takes with her; he doesn’t mean to and can see how easily it wounds her. Spear knows her concern for him runs deep - deeper than most probably, since they are cut from the same cloth of Offspring and Scalped. They are not small foals, lacking daintiness and appearing more like wild miniature drafts - Spear especially, he seems to have taken after Offspring more so than their mother, for his build is bulky and feathered, whereas Spark is a little more refined and almost as big as her brother.

“Fine,” she murmurs, hardly pleased at how he dismisses his lack of sleep so readily. Spark turns her head in the direction he is looking in, one eye is black and the other on the right side of her face is red (his are the same as hers, only his red eye is on the left side of his face). She seems to be considering something and Spear is curious as to why she is so quiet all of a sudden. He reaches out to bump his nose against her shoulder in hopes of drawing her attention back to him fully; “Spark…” he starts to apologize but she shakes her head at him, refusing to hear his utterances of regret and instead, she nips at his neck and says, “Come on.” He is startled for a moment, it isn’t like her to take the lead - he does, naturally, because he’s a colt and he came into the world first before she did.

Spear trails after Spark towards the South; they arrive in a land unfamiliar to them but it appears safe and populated only by foals like them. Spark slows, lets Spear overtake her as she is too busy looking around her at the plants and things that creep and grow out of the earth. She starts to poke her nose through the bushes, careful to sniff the air just in case she pokes her nose into a fox’s lair or something equally dangerous to her little (but not so little!) self. Instead, she smells a foal nearby - a filly, she thinks and before Spear can turn to her, she’s gone! He spins around in a small circle, aghast, “What the hell?” he mutters, before yelling his sister’s name at the top of his good strong lungs, “SPARK!” She pokes her head back out of the bushes and grins at him, “Just come here!” and she disappears again, leaving Spear to shake his head and slowly follow her into the dense thicket.

Azar

She thought she had seen a shadow, and she tried to search for it again as the light of day continued to brighten. She felt that her mother should've been here by now, but had yet to see her again. Until then, it seemed she was on her own. An unsettling feeling buried itself within her chest, and then her honeyed eyes found the shadow form again.

It fluctuated unnaturally as if it had too many legs, and her heartbeat sped up in fear. She remained as still as she could in her little nook, though her coat quivered. As she watched, the mass shifted and split, multiplying in two. One continued it's path onward, oblivious to the other half as it began sniffing the air and angled straight for her. She tensed, holding her breath, and hoped she wouldn't be found by whatever creature it was that could split in two.

The shadows grew ever lighter with the sun quickly rising. She could discern now that it was another foal, but her heart was already racing and she wasn't sure she should calm it. Still wary, she watched as the figure approached, then stabbed it's head through her little makeshift den. Her eyes widened and she wanted to hide her head beneath her wing, but was too afraid to lose sight of the being.

It was another filly, and Azar unsuccessfully tried to calm her nerves. Uncertainty replaced the fear, and curiosity slipped into her eyes. She lifted her chin a little and tested the air for the filly's scent, not that she would recognize her but it was more comforting to have a smell with a face.

The other figure suddenly yelled! Azar startled greatly, her entire body jolting violently. She hadn't heard anything so loud before, and his voice sounded strained with emotion, fear or worry for his other half. Her eyes flew to his direction and back to the filly before her. The gently creeping sense of safety she had been gaining from the filly shattered with his bullet voice. And then a third foal appeared!

Are you sleeping? It's basically noon now. You can wake up, this one said to her. And indeed sunlight rained down on them now.

Azar shuffled to her feet, frantic and clumsy. The leaves scattered beneath her in a loud rush. Her legs splayed awkwardly, stretched out before her a little too far for standing normally. There was nothing wrong with her limbs, only with her ability to function in her harried state. Somehow this pose had felt safer, as if she could take flight more easily though she couldn't yet fly. At least she didn't think she could, she had never tried. Her mother didn't have wings and couldn't teach her. Where was she anyway? She'd been gone so long..

She held like that, her head lowered looking up at them, eyes flitting from face to face to face. Her wings had lifted from her side a little, not fully spanned but allowing air to brush her rib cage, as if prepared instinctually for a sudden take-off. Her breath still came quick, and she watched them carefully, unsure what to do or say or how this was going to go. She hadn't met anyone but her mother til now, as they wafted through lands like silent ghosts.