She is not a terror either, though she is far from normal.
Carinae is child of gods and stars, and lived among them, once, in a timeless existence that lasted seconds, or an eternity.
(Time had not mattered, when the galaxy seemed to go on forever and all around her things collapsed and were reborn.)
But that life is no more – she is anchored, now, made mortal and grounded by forces she doesn’t comprehend. She is mortal now, and gravity wears heavy on her hooves, dragging her into the earth like weights.
Once thing remains – her coat shifts constantly, reflects the sky, whether it be stars or sunlight, clouds or lightning bolts. She wears it all, every constellation she walks beneath, and pretends, for a moment, that she will go home again.
She sees the boy. He is like so many other boys. There is something to his face and body, a moment of familiarity she can’t quite place. She doesn’t know it, but they share a father – a common thing, here.
She is made idle, in the forest’s shadow-dappled grounds. And though gravity pulls her down, she lifts her head high.
“Hello,” she says, as a patch of starlight shines through to alight upon her neck.
astra inclinant, non necessitant
(the stars incline, they do not compel)