The first signs of winter had appeared some time ago, and at the higher elevations of the mountainous area populated only by women the snow had already made a soft blanket of white upon the rocky surfaces. The wind was blustery and cold, and the snow stung her face. Although it was respite from the heat of the summer, Mouse could not help but be irritated by the cold of her third season in her new home. This was mainly for two reasons. Firstly, her old shoulder injury – now just a naked pink scar marring her steel colored hide – was stiff and achy with the frigid weather. Secondly, she could now feel within her a life stirring.
A month ago – or was it two? – she had ventured from the safety of her mountaintop and discovered the source of Impa’s suspicion when they had first met on the common ground. Though her memories prior to her accident had not all returned, the experience the patched stallion had inflicted upon her had sent a whole rush of unpleasantness back into her mind. She recalled brutality and pain, not necessarily directed towards her or her family, but it was pain all the same. These were memories she wished she had never known existed, and at first she had actively hated the piebald man for impregnating her. Now, however, she stuck to the safety of the peak. Here, with the size of most of her companions, she felt secure. And her memories were finally, although slowly, coming back to her.
This particular day was a short reprieve from the relentless alpine wind. It was calm, slightly warmer, and the sun sparkles upon the pristine white that capped the mountaintop. Today, she was glad for the scenery as she took a slight break from the company of the Vulcans. Though she had been here for quite some time, she did not know anyone incredibly well. Perhaps she had only herself to blame, for she easily became overwhelmed by the stimulation after so long alone and stuck mainly to short statements. Nevertheless, she was happy here and intended to stay and raise her child, though she had not a clue in the world how to be a good mother, and she wasn’t sure anyone else here did either.
A small noise stopped her in her tracks. Her ears pricked at the sound of small hooves making their way up the slate mountainside. Through the mist suddenly emerged a small painted girl, quite young by the looks of her. Mouse thought she resembled the stallion whose child she now carried; however, this could have been only because the male was currently on her mind. As the child let out a soft greeting to no one in particular, Mouse stepped from the small thicket where she had been hidden by the blending in of her coat with the stony background.
An answering whicker escaped her nostrils as she attempted to present the friendliest face she was capable of making. Much of her confusion was gone, but her awkwardness in new situations lingered. Her soft brown eyes searched over the filly, taking in the wondering expression on her face. She stopped some distance away before smiling warmly and softly greeting the girl. ”Hello, welcome to the Peak. I am Mouse.” Simple words, yet friendly enough. Especially for one still somewhat lost in the world.