There's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye. (Any)

[Joscelin]

Perched atop the trunk of the massive oak, she has a wonderful view of the meadow. She is too caught up in her delight to notice it however. Dropping her small nose to the rough bark, she lips it briefly before tossing her head back into the air with another burst of laughter. It is then that she notices the filly approaching her, her expression serious and unsmiling. Turning her head, she watches the girl approach with curiosity. She seems to have a general sense of import surrounding her, and Joscelin wonders. Joscelin’s own father is a king. Some would say that she is quite important as well. But that is something she has little care for. Being a princess holds no interest to her. No, what interests her youthful mind is fun. New places, new objects, new horses. And if in the process of finding all these new things she gets to defy her mother’s edicts, then all the better. Now that is fun.

When the filly asks her question, Joscelin scrunches her little nose slightly, looking at her as though she is slightly daft. What a silly question! (In that moment, she does not seem to realize that not everyone knows what gifts she wields and what she may have been doing with them).

Why, it was the tree falling, of course.

When the older (to the young filly, she seems truly ancient, though by Beqanna standards, she is really very young) mare approaches, the red filly turns her bright gaze upon her. She looks between the mare and the stick several times, slightly confused as to why she had just introduced her stick as George. Bounding off the large tree, she throws caution to the wind and approaches Girr and her stick. With curiosity, she sniffs George, only to find he is exactly what she thought. A stick.

Why do you call it George?

When she hears a colt speak behind her, she whips her small head around to see who else had joined their group. A bright smile curves her lips as she recognizes her brother (or half-brother, as the case may be, since they share only a father). Turning from the mare, she reaches him in a single leap, butting him playfully as she does. With sudden frown, she turns, realizing she has forgotten to tell them something very important: her name.

Oh, and I’m Joscelin.

joscelin