Playground

The minute her mother turned her back, Nepheline took the chance to bolt out of the shelter of her father’s forest. Her gangly legs carry her into unknown terrains, having never ventured from home. Magma wouldn’t take her anywhere either, quite unfair to the sooty palomino girl. Then again, Magma didn’t really have any friends, so she had no business going anywhere else.

Her mother’s anti-social nature meant nothing to the trickster child. She was too young to be so jaded and bitter. As much as she loved her mother, the chestnut mare was too overbearing. Nepheline craved freedom, and now she has it. This world was vast – allowing all the time in the world to explore. The farther she traveled, the more she contemplated on never returning home. She passes other herds, as well as areas for social gathering – but these lands are full of adults, surely ones that would bring her back home.

To spare herself of such things, she merely picks an adult and asks them where the playground is, claiming that her mother was bringing there but the two were separated a short while ago. The horse points her in the right direction, and Nepheline thanks her tremendously before bounding off to the children’s haven.

She treads carefully as the sun hides behind the mountains as the moon climbs into the sky. A bit of fear courses down her spine, having never been alone at night before. She swallows the fear and enters the territory. She hears the sound of a mourning dove softly hooting in the trees. She tilts her head, coming to a halt. Nepheline enjoys the sound, and makes an attempt to mimic it. The sound that comes from her throat is awkward at first, but she keeps trying and quickly is able to mimic the soft hooting almost perfectly.

The sooty palomino filly begins to walk away, the dove responding to her mimicry of the sound. She turns her head to see another foal in close proximity. She waggles her tail, then begins to move forward. She opens her mouth to speak as she nears him, unable to see him very well in the dark, but the soft coo of the dove rolls off her vocal cords first. She shakes her head and clears her throat, “Whoops. Ahem. Hi there! Are you okay?” He looks somewhat forlorn from his posture, and she tilts her head to the left, curious as ever.

of telekinesis and sound manipulation