.Twinge.

Dark ears rotate backward amid the mass of red and white tresses as the frustrated woman follows at Bacardi’s hip. His sudden halt draws her to an abrupt halt. Her dark gaze rises to meet his own, expecting to find fury and perhaps even a bit of amusement somewhere beneath those feral depths. Yet despite her best abilities to peer beneath the surface, she finds nothing. Whatever he feels, whatever he is thinking is hidden deep behind the mirror of her own reflection. Russet brows knit together as he speaks causing whatever words were beginning to form on her tongue to die away in silence. ’...he isn’t a child anymore…’ The words pierce her heart and leave her with an aching she never imagined she would feel. Was this how her own mother had felt when she left the Desert? Father? Somehow she felt the sensation was far more believable for her sire than her own dam who seldom bothered to offer her a sideways glance once she had been weaned.

Unshed tears gather behind her gaze as the fierce woman clenches her teeth tightly and diverts her gaze to the autumn floor at her hooves. Was this her fault? Was Burn really acting out because she refused to see him as more than her little boy? With Scorch it had been easy, the girl had a carefree spirit from the moment her hooves touched the earth. The day the filly decided she wanted to continue exploring the mainland while the rest of their small herd returned to the islands was one she saw coming. Burn? Leaving? No. She did not think she could bear it. Bacardi was right. He was not her little colt anymore and she could not expect him to be complacent with the idea of playing beside the river with his sisters anymore.

The handsome stallion speaks again. Dark lashes blink away the unshed tears and myriad of emotions as she watches him retreat into the forest's shadows. Tasks for Burn? Well, perhaps she could devise something suitable for the young boy. For now…. For now, she would allow herself to wallow in the shame that burns at her skin. Guilt tugged deep in her belly for her frustration over the whole situation. Bacardi was right. She did not hold all the answers…