Time had slowly drug itself around Syrah. Her memory never came back during the months it had taken her body to fully heal from whatever had happened that one fateful day. Now, it was winter and she felt alone. Syrah had no foal to grow in her womb and it had her faintly envious of the other horses in the Forest. Her heart was broken with the green emotion running through her body, but she could not change it. She was not someone others dealt with and she found herself just gliding through the forest like a wraith that no one could see. She was thankful for that of course, but she wished she had her own foal to grow instead of just watching others and fighting the urge to steal one when the foals hit the ground come spring.

Lifting her smaller hooves, the mare let out a sad breath. She might be sixteen hands tall, but the mare was thin in all ways. She was a horse built for beauty, but her skinny frame did not look that mesmerizing. She was still learning how to care for herself again for when she first got back to health, she never felt hungry and she never knew why. It took time of her actually watching others to start eating again and with winter, her body did not wish to be an easy keeper with how her mind wandered. So, as she walked around looking like a twig, the mare was startled to hear Bacardi’s voice over the wind.

Turning to where she heard it, Syrah slowly moved over the faintly snow dusted land and set her quiet eyes upon him. There was no emotion in their depths, but she knew she should not be alone much longer. Flicking her long tail, the mare stepped closer to him but did not speak as she let her body rest a ways away from him. Her ears lowered to her mane, but she let that be the only sign of her feelings. She felt alone and wanted her own foal, but Bacardi had been right during the fall season. She was not healthy enough for a foal, or at least that's what she thought he meant when he never came to see her during the lust fed season.