i will show you fear in a handful of dust -- any

[Snowphish]

every pearl is a lynx, is a girl
sweet like harmony made into flesh

Her chest suddenly feels as though her heart is squirming freely about its sternum cage. She stays bent, wings hung loosely, hovering maternally over the heap of sad skin and bones. His eyes catch hers and she is uncomfortable for a flashing moment, she hates to feel pity or any other such melancholic emotions. She decides she’s here to help, cooing him with soft breaths while he answers with a weak, tired little voice, his little saucer eyes welling with water tickling their brims. She cannot stand it, really, and tears threaten to gather in her own eyes and her throat involuntarily swallows a chunk of nothing. The lump travels down to ever slowly and she gains control, even if just for a moment. 

She draws in a soft breath, “No child.” she bumps him tenderly with her velvet gray muzzle. Sno is about to say something soothing, motherly and promise not to leave him, but she’s interrupted before she can purr these saccharine words to him. Tiny feet patter across the leaf-litter and the winged mare’s ears swivel back, her head cranes over her back to face the approaching child. She looks to the bony baby whose gaze barely seems to register herself; the child’s attention directly on the other skinny little pile of flesh at her feet. Sno knows exactly, miraculously, what is unfolding here and takes a sweeping step backward, tucking her wings back into their tightened position against her body. Another lump falls down her throat, but this time it is not from heaviness, but rather a bit of relief from the sudden weight of woe she suddenly found herself bound in just moments ago.

The little filly’s voice betrays her femininity as she moves in, side-eyeing Sno firmly, the white mare notices. The little heap of bones cannot seem to believe that Sno is no escort to the outer-worlds, even with his sibling touching him, assuring him sweetly that he is indeed here and so is she. Sno remains quiet an still, watching them, feeling the cold breeze beginning to pick up around them. The little girl’s cold eyes snap to Sno and it makes the mare pull her head back with surprise, her tail tossing anxiously as she looks back to the colt affectionately. “No, I found him this way, I haven’t been with him long. He may need a healer.” She doesn’t look back to his sister, only to him, stepping forward to let her nose touch him again. The sister pleads, barks, and pokes while Sno only whispers against the bay baby-fuzz along his little neck. “Get up little one. This is no dream, you cannot lay here forever. Get up….”