She is perhaps too soft and tempered, so content with those little touches her brother shares through their hips and their shoulders and the soft down of wings she is so sure she does not have. It is more pleasing than the milk that runs down her chin, and she turns from it too soon, so sweetly distracted by a boy so bright that rubies would be jealous of him.
She might be jealous, too, if she were capable of such things. Her chestnut is duller in comparison, copper worn flat instead of bright, an almost earthy tone where it collides with white legs and underbelly. She cannot see how it rings her face, too, her head almost entirely white but for dark ears and a mask of copper across the arch of her delicate nose. It does not make her beautiful, it is too unusual for that, but it does make her unique.
There is a feeling in her stomach when she follows her brother away from the teats at mothers belly, an ache she did not quite manage to soothe as it seems her brother did. But she doesn’t understand it, doesn’t understand that she should take more until she is swollen and sleepy and so satisfied. She is too content to place her heels in his shadow, press a damp, pink nose to the curve of his shoulder.
She nearly trips over him where he lands in the grass, so eager to stay as close as they have always been in that immortal forever they have always shared. They are a tangle of legs and limbs, her cheek on his back and her nose pressed to his neck where she can breathe him in and know her dreams will be full of him.
Sleep has nearly taken her when she flinches awake again, blinks slowly, flashes of faded teal amidst a face of red and white. She is looking for mom again, bleating softly at the woman who has always been there, needing the heat of her skin and the hum of her fathers voice. Only then does she let go of that little ache in her belly, curled so safely against the warmth of her parents, and dream for the very first time.
i am brambles but i am tangled in your love