She’s alone.
She hadn’t been at first. First there’d been Mother - brusque, angry, pushy … but hers. She’d loved her, loved her with her entire being as all young children love their mothers. She’d followed at her heels, snuggled up when she’d had the chance …
She’d gone to sleep last night, curled up against that dark, warm side. Happy. Safe.
But when she’d awoken, she’d been alone. Mother had gone. And had remained gone.
Even now she searches. The little black and silver filly wanders aimlessly through the den, dark brown eyes scanning the little territory for any sign of her mother. “Mama?!” She cries out, searching … but to no avail. Her mother’s voice does not cry out in response, and that familiar black and silver head does not appear from around any corner.
Eventually she gives up, settling into a patch of dark, soft earth in the shade of an old spreading oak. Sniffling, her dark head drops to the earth, resting, while her eyes still continue their fruitless search. She hopes, so innocently, that her Mama will return soon. There’s no way her Mama could leave her, after all.
But the world will quickly teach her otherwise.
Terra