Unexpected noise from behind the trees caused Hollowshank to stop in her tracks, her nostrils flaring and ears swivelling in the direction of whatever or whoever was approaching. Any normal horse might have been on edge but Hollowshank was merely curious. She couldn’t explain why, but she did not feel like she had anything to fear – though that did not mean that she was not ready to take flight should something treacherous come at her: that was the instinct of a horse after all.

Mother

A pale filly called as she stepped out from behind the trees. Hollowshank frowned, glancing around the immediate area for a brief moment before realising that the girl was addressing her. As her blue eyes settled on the filly – whose coat resembled hers without the sootiness that blackened Hollowshank’s mane and dappled her hide – a distant sense of familiarity washed over her. It was as if they had met before, and given that the girl called her ‘mother’, it was obviously more than just that.

She was a mother.

The realisation hit her with two distinct and conflicting sensations; the first being pride, that she could birth such a beautiful child; and the second was an overwhelming sense of guilt that she could forget that very same child. She wondered if the filly, whose name she did not even know, knew that she had forgotten her or if this was perhaps the first time. Her mind whirred, maybe she could still salvage this and her ‘daughter’s’ feelings.

As her child admitting to looking for her, Hollowshank let (what she hoped was) a bright smile cross her lips and took a few steps closer. "Oh? Have I been gone long?" she asked, her tone light and supposedly carefree, though there was a tinge of uncertainty she hoped wasn’t noticeable, ”I must have lost track of time.”.