she normally doesn’t wander this far… her mother has slowly been regaining her strength and has started to keep a more watchful eye on her… but hellebore can’t stand it any longer. her legs itch to run and her skin wants to be free of the weight of her sisters eyes for just a few moments. the small filly doesn’t know the circumstances of her birth but she knows that her situation is different than that of her twin sisters. she looks different than them, cursed with bushy unruly hair and a strange gait that her legs fall into occasionally. they are sweet and kind to her overtly, but hellebore can’t help but notice the curiosity in their eyes and the glances they exchange as they observe her sometimes. as if she was the sole cause of their mothers infirmity…as if she is the reason their father had disappeared once again.

her small black hooves, tidy and round, march purposefully toward the edge of the prairie, breaking into their strange rolling gait as she nears the mass of tall trees…. only a few more strides until she could be whoever she wanted… not the cause of misery and illness…. not a mystery to the rest of her “family” if she could call them that. the trees swallow her small frame whole, bathing her in a gloomy darkness that she relishes.

she probably should feel fear, totally alone in a strange place, but instead the filly feels a rush of satisfaction. a shrill whinny-squeal of defiant pride peals from her lips as she stamps her hoof with a thud on the spongey floor of the forest. she doesn’t know enough of the world to be scared yet, to be considerate of the dangers that might await her, but she is triumphant in her newfound independence. hellebore proceeds into the strange territory, eager to explore. surrounded by trees and dense foliage, this place seems so private and alluring in contrast to the vast openness of the prairie.