“MaMa, I hungwy.” Wound’s voice is syrupy and childish, her eyes wide as she looks up at her oldest brother. Malfunction’s name is both too long and too difficult to pronounce and so the newborn slips into a nickname for her eldest sibling. Although it sounds drastically close to “Mama,” the four of them do have a mother who they occasionally seek out. It’s why they find themselves in the Forest. Wound’s hungry stomach often brings them to the hairless mare they call Mother.

Skid nudges the petite filly, making sure to gentle his touch in order to not knock her over. Only having three working legs makes it more difficult to keep balance and Wound has already fallen over enough times just trying to learn how to walk. Her brothers encourage her hourly (Smear perhaps the most, with his own clubfoot right leg) and it keeps her optimistic, but especially now the little girl is feeling frustrated. An empty tummy and a tired body make for a grouchy little filly.

So they stop off in the hidden corner of the Forest, spend an hour letting Wound eat and chatting with Mother, before the four set off once more. They stop at the edge of the Forest (Malfunction in the lead, Wound in the middle, Smear and Skid on the sides) and watch the goings-on patiently. They are a strange, abnormal combination. The four all retain the same color – that silver bay that echoes the same color of their illusionist father – and when they stand as close as they all do, it gives them much the look of a four-headed, thirteen-legged monster of a creature.

And so they watch and wait. They doubt anyone would approach them, because they are fearful and creepy and fucked up.

They’ve know the stares before (they are almost as familiar as the wind touching their shoulders) and they no longer fear them. It was once foreign and terrifying (eyes turning to watch their misshapen parade, shoulders nudging to encourage others to look, mouths whispering in disgust and horror) and now it remains only a daily piece of life. However, no one ever approached. They all merely watched (wide-eyed, mouths agape, muscles taunt) as they slowly walked by, then returned to their bickering and cherishing and gossiping.

So they are shocked when she approaches them. They huddle somewhat closer together – Smear standing off toward the left inches closer to the right – and their chins rise to watch her watch them. When she stops, she doesn’t say anything. She watches them and they watch her back. Skid notes the way her eyes rove as though she were counting (counting the physical deformities, counting the number of twisted legs, counting the cluster of them) and Malfunction tries to catch her gaze.

Finally, the eldest coughs. “Can we help you?” Although it might come out sounding harsh on any other tongue, Malfunction’s is properly attuned toward the softer side of things. So he – so they all – wait in anticipation for her to say something (anything) back.