It happened one night, after she'd lost count of the days she'd been without her mother, that a certain slender black and white filly broke from cover and crossed the border of the Lagoon. She bolted into the unknown, as far and for as long as her body could manage before she had to stop for breath, sides heaving, legs shaking. And still she did not stop, but rather, she stumbled along, instinctively looking for a place where she could tuck herself out of sight. It had been a game her mother had taught her well; hiding. Only it wasn't a game now, and it was harder, because all she'd ever known was the lurid waters of the Lagoon.

The openness of the areas she crossed through now, which she'd later learn were the Commons and the Meadow, set her on edge, and her unease only built the further north she travelled. She was lucky in her roaming, she supposed, in that no stallions attempted to approach her. Because of her youth, she supposed, and the warmth of the summer. It made even the girl a little slower on her trek, the darkness of her coat soaking up the sunlight ntil she was driven to seek shade. The trees that grew in a belt near the waterfalls were something of a comfort to her, reminding the filly of the abundant growth in the LAgon, which she'd become very skilled at weaving between, even when the ground became marshy underhoof, and sucked at her pale white legs.

It was her little lithe frame that had kept her safe from danger in the Lagoon, and her mother's watchful eye.

But her mother had vanished, and though the dark filly, her coat all covered with mud to muddle her scent and dull the brightness of her markings, had searched and searched, she'd found not a trace. That's why she'd dared to leave the bounds of the Lagoon, because if Blackthorn couldn't find answers there, maybe she'd find them somewhere else.

It had been her intention to keep going right until she reached the mountain proper, but a weariness had gripped at her, and it felt like it was squeezing all her youthful vigour away. All she'd known until now was wading through the marshland, each dainty hoof planted firmly, her gait slow and steady, so as to not waste her energy fighting the pull of the Lagoon bog. Trekking across varied terrains, without the luxury of taking her time was something else entirely, and it was only now, right in the midst of it, that the girl could understand how unprepared she'd been.

It was there, not far north of the waterfalls, having crossed over into the territory of the mares of the Peak without realizing, for how many scents - both masculine and feminine - were fresh here, indicating that many had passed through in recent days, even weeks by how some scents were so subtle in their trace, that the yearling filly finally came to a rest. It had started out like every other break she'd needed to make on her grand escapade - finding water and grass to eat, hiding herself away to close her eyes just for a few minutes.

But the water, flowing down from the looming mountain that dominated the landscape to the north, it was sweeter than any she'd ever tasted! Once she'd slaked her thirst - drinking a little too much, it seemed, with the way her tummy hurt after (she hadn't been able to help herself, it tasted so good) - she lay on the grass, and it as so soft that she ended up rolling around in it, right there on the bank of the shallow running river. Bright, lighthearted laughter danced from her lips, and the sound of it, foreign to her own ears, had her going still and quiet, just in time to hear a snap of a twig from between the trees.

Head snapping around, ears half-turned back in apprehension, the sabino filly froze, and remained silent, her sky blue eyes fixed upon the shadowy space between the trees where the sound had come from.

"..."