Falls

Footsteps, light and quick, draw her ears forward. Isabella blinks more furiously, then squints to see who's coming, heart hammering so hard it makes her stomach churn. Her vision clears slowly, revealing in pieces a girl her own age, pale like cocoa and dotted with cozy marshmallow spots, sporting a streak of whipped cream in her mane. Her green eyes are vivid in her pale face, the full light of the setting sun having set her gaze all aglow.

She jerks when the girl steps forward to touch her, recalling the fear, the thrill, the sharp jolt of panic when that stallion's breath lingered on her flesh, but this is a filly, a girl with a dreamy gaze warm as steam, and Izzy stills under her touch—tolerant of it, if not acceptant. Her heart flutters about like a bird against glass, and her skin shudders involuntarily at the closeness of one who is not her mother, or pseudo-brother, or family like Collision, but she is proud of how her voice does not waver when she replies, "I live up there. The clouds aren't even close, though. Like they keep going higher when you do." She's not as articulate as the other, and she sounds hoarse from all those horrible nights, but her voice does not waver. Her brow furrows as she glances over her own shoulder, making sure to adjust her angle so the sun is not burning so directly in her eyes. "Guess I haven't been all the way to the top top, though. Maybe we'd be high enough then."

She considers it, and finds the idea of walking between the clouds enjoyable. It draws a genuine smile across her face and she nudges Ravena lightly with her shoulder. "What do you think they feel like? Mama's mane, maybe, or flower petals." Her gaze darts to the path at the mention of her mother but there is no indication, yet, that Rhadra has noticed her absence. "I'm Izzy. But if I've been bad my mama calls me Isabella," she adds somberly. She tilts her head at Ravena and clears her throat, then asks, "Where d'you live?"