Common

Quiet, timid, Phoebe steps from the water onto solid land. The swim had been difficult on the young mare, leaving her parents and family even harder. But the sight that greeted her was comforting. It was just as her mother described. Surely that meant she was in the right place? Although she was too tired to care about fine details, like which territory she had washed up on.


With quivering, feathered red legs, the mare ventures away from the lapping water and into the thick vegetation. Her muscles quiver along her shoulders and flanks as she makes her way deeper….deeper into the shadows of the moon washed trees, until they open up into a meadow. Phoebe’s excitement does not fade, and a smile pulls against the corners of her lips. Although she had seen plenty of meadows in her lifetime, none seemed as magical as this one. Perhaps it was the stories of the Lost Islands she had heard as a child. Or the idea that this place was so much better. No matter the true reasoning, a giggle bubbled free, and the young red mare trotted out into the opening where she made a full turn, taking in every angle.


When Phoebe stopped, she tipped her white striped faced up, looking at the starry sky. Would it look like that where her parents were? Or had even the sky changed?