She is not like them.
She does not have the doe-eyed innocence of others her age, nor does she share that curiosity and thirst for life. Where others flit about, she slinks; a wolf amongst the sheep. Many have tried to entice her into play; she's rejected most with a sneer and some with a mirthless laugh, but they've all been rejected.
She is small, and she is young, but she is not like them.
The night calls to her like a baying hound, and the red filly does not resist that call. She slips away from her mother easily, leathery wings tucked tight against her blood red sides. Mist swirls around her, cloaking her black legs from view and giving the illusion that she is floating through the trees. She has no goal or purpose, only desiring to escape the prying eyes of her mother.
The forest moves easily to accommodate her. Not for her size, but something in the way she carries herself makes the landscape seem to shift around her. She is almost silent, her tiny feet sinking into the leaf litter easily. She walks for ages it seems before her interest is finally grabbed, and what a sight it is. A startling colt, older than her but not by much. His coat is a lurid shade of green or yellow (she can't decide), but the skeleton painted on his hide is what really lures her in. His ears swivel to and fro atop his head and she knows that he hears her. It gives her a thrill, knowing that she is being recognized as the huntress that she hopes to be. "The itsy bitsy spider, went up the waterfall...down came the rain, and then he had to fall. Out came the sun, and saw all of the bones...and the itsy bitsy spider is never going home..." she trills as she makes her way towards him, dark eyes flashing.
Mother did say she was an odd child. Mother is right.
-Sanguinista-
the moon is my sun & the night is my day...blood is my life & you are my prey
@Ghoulish