We knew of fear long before we drew our first breaths. Together, Naenia and I absorbed our mother's heartbreak as she was ripped from our father for the first time, and the resulting desperation as she fought for her survival in the Inlet. We learned to read our mother's worried looks to know how quiet we had to be on any given day, and how deeply we needed to hide when the pale-maned mare came near. Later, when we were reunited, we sought comfort in each other when our older sisters would fight with our mother as they readjusted to her presence.

My sister learned to soothe and appease them, but I lacked her gentle patience. When their burdens became too much for me to handle, I sought the comfort of the jungle. The brush of moisture-laden fronds across my sides reminded me of our mother's touch, and the songbird melodies above my head were reminiscent of the songs she used to hum to us at night when sleep was slow to come. I loved to bury my attention in the way the small mammals always seemed too busy with the process of living to worry about mundane things like emotions.

She found me in one of these moods, my attention fixated on a nest of ants that were busy repairing a section of their trail that I had inadvertently stepped through a few hours ago. Their endless struggle was fascinating to me, and had it been nearly anyone else, I might have continued watching them instead of choosing conversation.

But it was Naenia, and she was the sun to my moon.

"Over here," I offer softly in the wake of her passing. Apart from the fact that I could feel that she was near, the birds had paused in their humming to assess the intruder and deemed them safe, as had the small mammals. Usually, they took longer for larger horses, and in the case of our older sisters, sometimes did not resume their chatter at all. Roisin pain had only grown more volatile the longer the separation went on, and in some ways, Akadi was much a mystery to them as she was to us. But for us? For us, the noise was quick to resume.

Picking my way delicately to where my sister waited, I stretched my muzzle out to straighten the pale cream of her mane. Satisfied she was perfect, I pulled back enough to glance briefly at her eyes. It was enough to tell me that she was overwhelmed. My brow drew together briefly in concern as I searched for something to lift our hearts.

"Is it a waterfall day?" Sometimes, when the world felt too heavy, I would escape to the waterfall. There was something about playing in the trickling water and splashing Naenia that never failed to remind me that even though the world was sometimes overwhelmingly sad… there were still bright moments to be found.