Rhadra’s brow furrows as the other mare explains one such misadventure, and she nods in understanding. She had had similar experiences growing up— being scolded or reprimanded often and almost absentmindedly by her preoccupied sister or one of the other broodmares impatient at having to pitch in to raise a foal not entirely their own. But it hadn’t been that way all the time, and looking back now she knows much of their snapping and irritation came from a place of caring as they strove to protect her from self-injury. “It sounds like your mother was worried about you, if stallions weren’t supposed to be there and your friend was injured. I can only imagine a mother’s panic coming across such a scene. Still,” she blows out a low, sympathetic breath. “Such things leave their marks, no?”
She tips her head at the description of fantasy. “Sometimes I look for pictures in the clouds, but I know that’s just the trick of the eye. They’re just clouds. I’ve never seen anything like you say your sister saw. She must have a vivid imagination, to believe she’s seeing things that aren’t there.” Rhadra snorts, amused. “Everyone knows fairies aren’t really real.” And yet, how can she be so sure, when before she ever saw the ocean the idea of such a vast body of water seemed equally impossible?
At the other mare’s invitation, Rhadra responds with a tight smile. Foals aplenty, sure, and more reminders of all she could never have. It isn’t the other mare’s fault, of course, but Rhadra’s warm disposition closes with a bit of a chill, and she backs up a step, feeling that familiar grief clench her heart. “I’ve a friend there who I may end up visiting again, but for now I am content where I am,” she replies. “But thank you for your offer— I’m sure we’ll cross paths again there. If you’ll excuse me,” Rhadra bobs her head in a small gesture of farewell before she turns and walks hurriedly away, as if she can outpace the pain beating in her chest. |