"Madre!", the call echoed all around the young boy who was turning in circles hoping to catch sight of the familiar shape that was his mother. She was as a dark as the shadows, so different from his golden form, which made is so very hard to find her. He had been searching for her for forever now, and had no luck. Fiero had been hoping she had returned to the lagoon to be near his father, but neither horse were around.

The poor boy was upset now. The only horses he had in his life were gone, and he was now alone. His frantic searching came to a stop when the winter chill seeped past his thin layer of fluff and he was left shivering somewhere on the borders of his birth home. Sicily had never gotten around to showing him the islands, so the boy had no desire venture to places he didn't know. The lagoon was all he knew, and would continue to know as long as it would have him. With a hefty sigh as he watches the night start to come around, he moves into the trees, finding a spot to curl up on the ground, hidden from sight as long as no one catches his scent and seeks him out. He wanted to be alone with his sorrows.