The Lost Islands
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Words can make me beautiful

Poem was more of the quiet sort. Bold where it mattered. That is not to say that she was not energetic and happy. The homeland was flourishing with life and all that she knew was here. She did not stray. Not yet anyway. The palomino roan found herself wandering along the Bay. It was desperately cold here but the filly is used to it. The pale creature moves and before long there is another presence. She can smell the crimson that tainted the air but there is no sense of fear. She remembers this from her own presence into the world. There was new life and she wanted to seek it out. Call it curiosity if you wanted to.

It is not long before a trot carries her further inward. Toward the tree line Poem moves. Eventually her eyes fall on the mare and child. As she grows closer she slows within a respectable and safe distance. Mother had warned her to remain alert and cautious around new mothers even if you knew of them. This mare is not a stranger but neither is she well known. They had not talked of course. The filly is quiet as her eyes dart from one to another and then, the yearling speaks.

"Hello. I am Poem and he is beautiful." She offers to the new mother. "Congratulations." There is silence then and she smiles. There is no threat in her stance. There is only curiosity that glimmers in those brilliant eyes of hers. Ears are high on her head and swiveled toward the pair. Poem assumes the mother is exhausted and her intent is not to startle her. Hopefully she had not done this as she suddenly realized with the mare's stance that she'd been dozing.

"Forgive me. I did not mean to bother you. I can go if slumber is your wish. I could however, stand guard while you rest if you like. Or I could call for my mother. She lives here. Her name is Gloriosiah." Perhaps the other knew her mother and would be more comforted with the yearling's presence. Poem doesn't know but now she is quiet and waiting.


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