you don't remember me; any

[Ephrelle]

the ones that love me, i tend to leave behind I’d left at daybreak and taken my time getting to the Field. There is no rush, not on such a lovely fall day as this, and I enjoy the feel of the warm sun on my pale back and the breeze as it blows back my black mane. I’ve kept my tail as it is most comfortable: thick, well-muscled, and tipped with four long golden spikes that match the scaling pattern on my muzzle. There are far stranger things in Beqanna than a three-year old mare partially shifted into a stegosaurus – aren’t there? I’ve told myself that anyone not put off by my appearance is likely to be a good candidate for the Amazons. I repeat that to myself as I stand at the edge of the Field, looking over the well-populated area and slowly realizing that absolutely no one seems to care what I look like. I’m just another body here (at least not a homeless body) and I blend right in. It’s relaxing, almost, and I take a deep breath before pressing forward. The brightness of her coat is the first thing that catches my eye. She’s lovely, like sunshine and clouds at the same time, and I switch my straight path to come closer. I bob my head and smile warmly, my green eyes bright and curious. “Hello!” I say brightly, “My name’s Ephrelle. What’s your name?” e p h r e l l e if you know about me and choose to stay then take this pleasure and take it with the pain