Precious still wasn’t comfortable. It hadn’t been long ago when she had finally been expelled. She remembered the journey to the old shaman who had given her the Words. Even then, Precious felt the old mare had been weary. Those who bore her curse rarely found safety or comfort. The silver roan knew that.

The larger mare seemed kind at least. She relaxed and that did help Precious. She was also encouraged by the fact that the mare was also new.

“I’m… I’m called Precious,” She managed. She jumped quite a bit when Zakhar explored with noise. He seemed excited. Were all foals like that? Then he mentioned the obvious and Precious visibly retreated, hiding her head behind her forelock. She took a few steps back.

“I’m… I’m sorry…” She whispered, turning away. “I… I… should… go…” She turned in an attempt to make a break for it. Her stupid white mane; always letting them know. Always getting in her way.