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Pilar stood at the edge of the pool the falls poured into, mesmerized by its strength and relentlessness. Of all the years she spent wandering this collective of islands, she realized that she had never seen the river run dry. No matter the season the falls were always there, roaring away. It was a consistency she wished she could attain for herself, but she was far from as powerful or forceful as the water.
For most of her life, the mostly-brown mare with the strange ears had been more like a feather in the breeze. She fluttered from one place to the next, gently landing and keeping still for awhile, until a subsequent burst of air lifted her up and carried her to the next destination. Pilar was used to being at the mercy and whims of the wind.
She sighed and dipped her white hoof in the pool gently. It was still ice-cold from the recent snowmelt and she shuddered, withdrawing it quickly. Instead she lowered her muzzle to the edge for a small drink, finding the sensation of the cold, clear water in her throat much more satisfying.
Perhaps all she needed was a change in perspective.
pilar
all I am is meant to bleed and bloom
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