Daffodil had been alive for two and a half years and in that time, one might’ve thought every day had gone by perfectly. The gilded girl walked with light, high-knee steps, pale tail flagged off her hind and nose pointed in the air. Joy and wonder radiated from her. The world around her always looked its brightest and prettiest in her eyes; she had a particular talent for finding the most intriguing thing to look at wherever she was. One would think since Atlantis was all the girl had seen her entire life, she’d have grown bored of the parrots with their myriad of colored feathers or the pretty clusters of purple, white, and yellow orchids, or any other region-based wonder that called Atlantis their home. Maybe with such a thirst for experiencing life, she’d have an insatiable wanderlust and want to flee the shores of Atlantis to see what lay beyond…
But, no. Daffodil loved Atlantis and loved every day she woke here and every night she went to sleep. She, her mother and her brother had stuck together in the Atlantis jungles even after the mare who led the Harbor seemed to vanish. Her brother was annoyingly protective of them both and refused to allow them close to the new horses who began to take up residence in the Shore and beyond. He fretted, scolding them both about knowing better than to trust strangers and lecturing Daffodil on her being far too young to fall victim to what it was that stallions wanted.
“What do stallions want, brother?” She’d teased him, grin growing wider.
It wasn’t like he knew! Kestrel was a shut-in who refused to talk with anyone outside of their mother, and became stressed those few times Talya slipped away from his watchful eye and disappeared for a day or two. He was just a big old worrywart. Yeah, mom was a little special. Daffodil had figured that out pretty early on. It didn’t mean she was defenseless! It didn’t mean they had to make their entire lives about her. They could stay the close family they were, but they could each have their own lives and adventures too.
So, Daffodil started sneaking away from him like their mother did. Only she never left Atlantis. She skirted the edges of the areas where the scents of strangers grew a little bit stronger, wherever the herd had moved that day… but she never went too close. Maybe it was fun to flirt on the edge of misbehaving; maybe there was a small part of her that was nervous that Kestrel's worrying had some truth to it. Whatever the reason, Daffodil did not reflect. She only continued to trot around the secretive paths she knew well, stopping to sniff at little strands of their manes and tails caught on twigs, or where hair had been rubbed off while someone itched themselves. She made up little ideas about them in her mind, little stories about who they were and where they had lived before they came to Atlantis.
Soon, she told herself, she would turn back around and go find wherever Kestrel was sulking at her slipping out from his self-appointed babysitter duties. But, for now, Daffodil was having fun spying and making up her own little ideas and stories about the world and the strangers who’d come to settle in the Shore.
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