any/all foals;

[Starlin]

STARLIN grit and grace. A few dozen meters ahead of the queen and blue filly, a dark head pops up at the sound of the call. Starlin has been dozing on the sand, flat on her side and utterly relaxed. The pewter grains stick to her left side even as she stands and shakes, adding another shade of grey to her monochrome coat. The grullo tobiano stretches and yawns before stepping around the stone between them and greeting Nayl and Kahvi. She blinks quickly in the late afternoon sun, her blue-grey eyes not quite adjusted to wakefulness, but she does bob her head suitably low when she says: “Hello, your Majesty. Hello Kahvi.” When she looks up from her downcast-gazed greeting, she attempts to catch Kahvi’s attention. She gives the blue filly a quick wink that is only partially shielded by her damp black forelock. The shuffle of hooves reaches Starlin’s black-rimmed ears, and she turns to see a pale colt approaching. “Hey Ard!” She says brightly, remembering the welcome that he’d given her during their first meeting. She’d been new to Nerine, but that was almost a year ago. A year! Really? How time has flown! It’s an odd realization that she’s just had, but there’s barely a sign of it in the way she steps forward without hesitation to nudge Ardashir’s shoulder in greeting. He says what she’d been thinking – perhaps in a more formal way than Starlin might have – and the young girl looks back curiously at her Queen and her friend.