Was I left behind?
Tell me, tell me I survived.
The mare seemed open to be approached, but still I keep my distance. She seemed cautious, but not at all aggressive.
My copper-colored ears flick forward and at attention when she speaks, and I snort in confusion when she mentions "two leggers". Perhaps she is from a distant land and I misunderstood her dialect. Nevertheless, I toss my heavy head, my red mane lapping at my thick neck as I do so and snort.
"Well, many here can still be unkind." I offer. "My name is Shamwari. I live in the Prairie on a neighboring island called Luthien. What brings you to the islands?"
My honey brown eyes scan our surroundings. The open pastureland was desolate, a troubling trend that was unfortunately growing used to during this war-torn period among the isles. Nevertheless, my interest remained on the mare.
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