Two little girls, light in complexion and build of the same creams and tans and bland hues much of their surroundings were, lurked quietly away from the herd, but still in sight. Normally, when their father was in attendance, it was closest to them they stood. He was gone, temporarily, either patrolling the borders to make certain the territory stayed safe or even taken to the sea to visit Crossing Isle in hopes to bring a new family member back. Every time he returned he muttered the same thing, the islands had grown quiet. The girls didn’t know what that meant, they’d been born into the silence of the world and their world only consisted of the boundaries of the Bay, no further. They could imagine the concept which their father spoke but they’d never experienced it firsthand so their ideas were merely dreams.

One of the girls, with her milky-white eyes, had her head hung gently and her back hoof cocked, clearly at rest. The other, the lighter of the two with faint distinction of spots on her already pale-cream coat, seemed bolder and more alert. She stood with her head high, nostrils quivering as she sucked in the cool summer air and flicked her ears this way and that, always scanning. Without needing to know them one only need look and it became painfully obvious who was the bolder of the two.

It was she, then, who caught scent, sound, and eventually sight of the approaching colt. Her muscles tensed, her ears flicked back, though they did not pin. Her sister could feel the subtle difference and lifted her head, looking blindly off to the side, near where the colt’s hooves had been heard stepping over the tundra ground but not quite where he now stood. “Mariael?” She asked in her quiet voice. “What is it?”

“Stay here, Maziel.” Counseled the sister in a firm voice which almost sounded like a cruel command, though Maziel knew it was only her sister’s worry and heightened need to protect her that made her sound so.

Mariael walked boldly forward, blue eyes burning like fire, chin raised. “Who are you?” She asked, but the question didn’t sound friendly in the way it was inquisitive; she spoke with more strength and defensiveness than might be expected from a near-yearling filly.