Marcelo continued to stand defensive and as strong as he could, despite how weak he truly was, from starvation, and the general elements of the world, as well as the travel that the twins had covered. But the gentleness of the mare before the twins does not go unnoticed by Marcelo and neither by Madison.

Her words are soft, slow, and gentle. Marcelo finds those red hued ears emerging slightly from the pinned back position against those blonde locks that were one of the only attributes to discern him from his twin sister. She says she means no harm, and Marcelo is too young to question that she could be lying. He knows what lies are, the lie his mother told him about how she loved her twin children, but he doesn't know that someone would lie about meaning another harm. Marcelo and Madison knew what a lie was.

But they did not yet know deception.

Madison moves from behind her brother, storm cloud eyes growing wider as she eyed the colt and mare. Her ears are forward, though she holds no brightness in her starved eyes, nor does a smile float to her face as was so often with little fillies her age. She blinks as the mare asks her questions, but she has no response. Madison had only ever spoken to her dam and to her brother, no one else. Marcelo steps in once again, speaking for his twin. “She’s not here,” he growls, his voice high-pitched, yet too rough for someone his age. “She left.” His voice grows even, almost devoid of emotion. With his final two words, Madison slides her body next to her brother’s, her ears flutter backwards for a moment in sorrow. It wasn't often the foals spoke of their mother leaving, especially by Marcelo.

Madison’s nostrils continue to quiver with the smell of milk and she is unable to stop herself from moving forward until she reaches the mare’s chest, eyes filled to the brim with hunger as she attempts a weak smile, though it falls short, merely twitching the edges of her cheeks. She nudges her chest slightly before Marcelo quickly comes up behind his sister, gently brushing her red shoulder. “Sorry,” he says, ducking that crimson head with those blonde locks. “We can go.” Is what he says. But what he means is ‘let us stay.’

x-marcelo & madison-x