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

She was restless.

The young mare had spent nearly two full seasons a part from her mother. Now nearly full grown, the stout dark Wasp hardly resembled her short and petite mother anymore. Instead, she loomed with a much grander presence, one that mimicked the stature of her towering father, a draft-type breed with a jet-black coat (though Wasp's was swirled in a deep bay), thick legs and an equally thick chest, with matching amber eyes. The filly seemingly sprouted out of nowhere in last few months, shooting up to 16 hands just about, at the withers. Any bystander wouldn't look at Wasp and see a kid any longer, even if she was barely a 2-year-old. They'd see a young, but full grown mature mare.

The filly's mind, however, had some catching up to. Perhaps it was this period of isolation. After Jetta left with Wade, and the few remaining members of the Peak drifted away, Wasp hadrly had any foals of her own age to grow up with. Most of the time this dependence on adults for kinship in addition to nurturing guidance made her seem more mature. But on the rare occasion when the filly was feeling agitated or reckless, she was prone to lash out in ways that showed just how immature she really was. Boy, did Wasp have a temper on her. This strange period of her life -- as she fretted about her mother's captivity -- only seemed to ignite that side of her more frequently.

Lately, Wasp had done her best to avoid her "security detail," aka Bozena, whom was expertly trained to keep a close eye on her. She knew Bozena would find her whenever she needed, but they didn't need to talk all the time. As such, Wasp kept to the higher elevations these days, enjoying what was left of the crisp and cool weather in the thinning air as summer rolled over the Crossing Isle. This particular day was just as quiet as the day before, and the one before that. The dark mare let out a long sigh as she prepared herself for yet another long and boring existence. That is, until the scent of someone unfamiliar wafted to her nose in the passing breeze.

She was able to determine the scent as feminine right away. But it belonged to a stranger, someone whom hadn't been to the Peak before, at least. Wasp blinked quickly in rapid succession in an attempt to wake herself up. Then she began manuvering down the boulders and rocky trails, taking careful steps with her wide hooves and legs as she scaled the path. Eventually Wasp found the stranger -- a striking red roan mare ambling her way up the incline. Wasp watched her curiously for several minutes before announcing herself with a gruff whinny. She waited then for the mare to reach her elevation, where a boulder gave a short flat area for the two to stand. "Who are you?" She asked curiously as the wind battered against her unkempt mane. "Not many strangers try to climb this high up the mountain by themselves."

W A S P