It is not often that the red and bone mare can be found away from her family - especially in the evening when sleep should be beginning to settle over quiet minds. But there is a restlessness in her heart lately, an unease she cannot name, a feeling she cannot place. It finds her when she is at her quietest, growing in the moments sleep makes her limbs feel heavy and her mind feel gentle. It comes in place of dreams, in place of the contentment she usually finds nestled beside her favorite shade of grey.

The sky is just as it always is, and swears she has every single constellation memorized. She watches it for a long while, having wandered towards the ocean for the breathtaking view it always provides. There is very little quite as humbling as standing in shadow at the edge of endless water while it reflects the black and diamond sky forever.

She might’ve stood there for hours, just listening to the quiet shoosh of waves against the sand, the soft clatter of shells and driftwood washed ashore. But a voice catches her attention, an unfamiliar one with a note of begrudging affection that makes her smile for its familiarity. She opens her eyes - though she hadn’t recalled closing them, and turns to follow the voice like a leaf caught in a current of gentle wind.

She finds them with a gentle smile, those seagreen eyes so soft and gentle as she watches a father tell his daughter a story in the orange glow of firelight. It is an awkward moment to stumble across though, and for a long while she is left hidden in the shadows so as not to startle them. But the longer she stays, the stranger it feels, and just as she considers slipping away again, the story ends.

Her breath sounds loud in this brand new quiet, and she knows at once that he will notice her without a story to preoccupy himself. So she takes a step forward, out of the shadow and into the firelight, her delicate head bowed gently in an almost appeasing gesture. She means to make herself seem as unstartling as possible, but what she has forgotten in so much time spent with a family so good at loving her, is that she is frightening.

She is pale copper and silvery gold hair, soft sea green eyes the color of warm oceans. There is white on her legs and over most of her face, sweeping low over either cheek, and it shines pearlescent in the soft ethereal glow of her illuminated body. Even her hooves are pearl, bright and beautiful and enameled with so much soft, shy color. There are red flowers in her mane and tail, and even more twining in the branches of her antlers. She might have been beautiful if not for the bleeding protrusions of bone spread like armor over her delicate body.

“I don’t mean to intrude.” She whispers, and her voice, though soft, does little to soften the lines of red that spill down her chestnut skin, or the way the bone plate across her face is stained rust around all those crisp white edges. “I couldn’t sleep and heard your story.” There is so much gentleness in her face as she looks down at the sleeping girl, then back up at the bay man - and then soft surprise as she realizes there is only flickering flame where his mane and tail should be. “Do you know any stories of small chestnut mares?” She asks, that smile almost shy on her face.

i am brambles but i am tangled in your love

She is relieved when he invites her closer to the circle of his small family and the fire smoldering like a tamed sun at his feet. He doesn’t even stare for all that long considering this is likely the first time he’s met anyone who wears her bones on the outside of her body. In fact, she cannot detect even an ounce of surprise or disgust, just that single glance as he takes her in like she is one of the plainest creatures he has ever laid eyes on, and for a moment she wonders if he cannot see well.

It’s tempting to ask him if that’s the case, and maybe that feeling is reflected in the delicate lines of a bone-bright face and shadows made from the rust of dried blood. Even her brow furrows, though that too is hidden beneath bone and forelock and a tangle of antlers. She is so delicately confused, bewildered by what can only be described as kindness, that she nearly thanks him for not recoiling when she stepped into the firelight.

But she holds her tongue.

And she is glad for her choice when that almost-smile slips across his mouth and suddenly hers curves too in a silent echo. “She has a point though,” Wonder finds herself saying, easing forward another step into the warmth of the smoldering flames, “one story is hardly enough. It would be so much easier to rest after two, I think.” Her expression stays so gentle, and that wonderment never quite fades from the seafoam shade of those faded teal eyes as they rest quietly against the lines of his face.

Her eyes widen though, sudden and surprised, when he asks to hear the story of a chestnut mare, of herself. She likely should’ve known her words would lead to him asking, but truth be told her interactions seldom got this far. She blinks and takes an uncertain step back, her eyes so soft and almost a shade of worried. What could he possibly want to know about her? Certainly not about her ghosts, not nightmare things - she pushes those thoughts far away as she glances down at the little sleeping child.

Still, when her gaze returns to his face it is gentle and uncertain, and she finds herself looking for comfort in those mismatched eyes of his. “I’m afraid the only story I know is a bit boring.” But only because she is specifically leaving out the painful bits. “Of a small chestnut mare with a few too many bones and a family she loves dearly. Six children, two of which were born as wolves but are very much horses -” and she smiles, shaking her head as she remembers that moment. “She lives with her family in the shadow of the volcano, and she is happier than she ever thought she deserved to be.”

It is the use of the word deserved that ultimately quiets her again, because a careful man might wonder what happened in her life to make her think she didn’t deserve to be happy. “And what of you? I don’t suppose you have a story to share with me? I might even settle for just a name.”

i am brambles but i am tangled in your love