a new world hangs outside the window
beautiful and strange
it must be I've fallen awake
I must be

Wasp listens to Božena obediently now, but the filly is as unsure of her words as ever. The mare had always spoken in such an exotic way, her attempt at the islands' native language broken, but seemingly good enough to get her message across. For some time, Wasp took interest in logging away the words of Božena's language: sestra, děvče, dějiny, bojovník. Before Macabre's departure, Wasp would physically recite the words to her mother, even if she couldn't remember their meaning and clearly butchered them in execution. Macabre, of course, happily encouraged her daughter to seek out Božena if she wanted to learn the language. But Wasp had felt too foolish at the time.

The heavy-set filly breathes a deep sigh, the sides of her dark barrel rising and falling in a long huff. Her thick dark tail flicks a few times idly over her rump as she gathers the courage to look Božena in the eye as she speaks. Her words ring true, and Wasp finds some hope in them. She nods to Božena once, and offers her a short-lived grin. "Okay." She says in a confirmatory manner.

But an awkwardness hangs between them in the aftermath of Božena's short speech. Wasp struggles to know what to do next. Does she stay here with the large black mare? Does she slink away to doze under the trees, which her weary body and mind long for her to do, or does she graze and mind her own business? Her brain is slow to respond, but in her gut, Wasp is anxious to begin working on a plan to save her mother. There's a creeping feeling that washes over her every now and again, it slides up her back only to send a shiver back down her spine. It finds refuge in her gut, which turns tight with hyper, paranoid feelings. It tells her something is wrong, or is about to be. They must save Macabre soon.

"So what do we do now?"

W A S P