Like a shadow, Vesper was never far from her silver-haired sister. While Selune perched on the cliffs to call out her goodbyes to the birds, Vesper was further down the side of the mountain, still within the shadows of the jungle. The earth here dropped off suddenly, without the open face of the stony cliffs to give any warning, and Vesper peered through a slash in the undergrowth at the glittering sea below. She could hear Selune, but could not see her where she stood above.

The open sky, in a way, frightened Vesper. She liked the birds, but she enjoyed them most when they were perched in the trees, wings folded neatly into their brightly-colored bodies. She thought they were brave and maybe a little foolish for venturing so close to the sun, which seemed to scream at Vesper with its light. It just seemed so close, so harsh in its brightness and heat that Vesper found herself shrinking away from it when she could. Overcast skies and stormy days were some of her favorites, though they, too, frightened her. It felt as though the sky was an enormous god, the sun its watchful eye, and the rain a gentle gift. She was grateful for it, but cautious of the hand offered it.

At the top of the cliff, Selune’s voice had quieted, and Vesper turned her attention away from the sea below and up the slope. There was quiet for a time, before the clattering of stones told her Selune was making her way down again, into the forest. Vesper trotted away from her own little ledge and soon enough, heard her sister’s voice calling her name, almost directly into Vesper’s ear as she rocketed past the black filly.

Vesper took off to follow, galloping as gracefully as possibly for a lanky yearling, until she was running side-by-side with Selune. She caught a strand of her sibling’s creamy mane in her teeth and gave it a playful tug, not slowing, happy just to run through the shadows with her other half.

As happy as she was, however, like any good sister she knew there was something on Selune’s mind, and she waited patiently for the silver filly to spill it—knowing she did not even need to ask.

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