Midsommar is a precocious girl. Slipping from one whim to another, she is flimsy and fickle, curious but not enough to pay attention. She is unassuming next to her sparkling parents. A demon mind reader and a starry snowflake-covered duo created a bright chestnut, boring girl. At least, that is what Sommar thinks she is showing.
She can read minds, too - but the secretive little thing has kept it hidden from both parents (especially the mind reader).
It took her some time to refer to them as 'Mother' and 'Father.' The first couple of weeks of Sommar's childhood were spent in silence. Her parents worried over the mute girl, fretting over her wide, glassy eyes and perpetual staring. The reality was that her mind reading had come immediately, and the chestnut girl spent every waking moment just listening.
She didnt understand then, but she didn't have to.
Speaking comes easier, now, and so does affection - but Midsommar always feels so terribly peculiar.
Peculiar like a stormy autumn night that she chooses to explore. Dove didn't like to let Sommar out of her sight, but it was one of those nights that Draco had convinced her to come away. The filly would be remiss to let a chance like this slip out of her hands.
It smells like fall, though Mar wouldn't know this. Heavy wind kicks up the fallen leaves. They spiral around trees and shadowy bushes. The filly watches with quiet, attentive eyes. From the shadows of one of the waving plants, a maned wolf steps out and into stride with Sommar's patient walk. He doesn't look at her, gleaming yellow eyes instead scanning the trees that surround their path.
It's going to storm soon, the wolf projects.
"I know," Sommar replies aloud.
It could be dangerous.
"I know," she repeats.
The wolf doesn't respond or rebuff Mar; instead, he swings his maned head to peer at her, then returns to watching their surroundings. The copse of hardy trees on the edge of Pangea they were travelling through begins to thin out. The grass slowly gets longer, yellow and yet still more lush than any grazing Pangea has to offer.
"I just wanted to see the Meadow at night," Sommar says as they come to a halt a few feet into the thick of the Meadow. "The storm, though . . ." she states, glancing at her companion, "is cool."
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