Emotions: they were no more stationary than the seasons that came and went. First it was heartache that held hands with loneliness. Bitterness eventually drove it away. At some point, though Maple couldn’t recall, that bitterness faded away into nothingness. The void that spread like a disease started off as a small hole in her heart. Now it felt like a chasm that pieces of her were slowly crumbling into, and no one was there to see it. To recognize that who she was, or who she could have been, had died a slow death after she had been left here in this territory she seemed shackled to.


Countless nights, the young mare had stood on the shoreline, her eyes cast in the direction her family had swam towards. Either their death, or the fate, she would never know. Part of her long to fling herself into the waters after them, even after the time that passed, while the other part cursed them for making such a reckless and stupid choice. No longer that young mare, Maple didn’t stand upon the shore anymore. Nor did she scream her feelings towards the sky. Instead, like a ghost, she simply haunted the Forest, existing and not at the same time.


When the painted mare first laid eyes upon the stranger, his face had been swollen and bloody from whatever had wounded him. Maple didn’t bother to approach, not with Yaga so near to him. The last interaction with the giant hadn’t gone well; all her fault of course, but Maple felt no need to revisit such a scenario, so had kept her distance. Had ignored the newcomer much as she did every resident that called the Forest home now. But today, as she wandered aimlessly among the trees, she couldn’t help but pause as she caught his fresh scent. Turning her head, she spotted him not too far away, atop a small hill and the sun dappling his glossy painted coat. It would be easy, to tell herself a family member had returned. That he had been looking for her, and because of his injury, had not known he had found her. The stories she could come up with, the lies she could weave in her head and never speak aloud as she drifted away back into the shadows. It would all be too easy, Maple decided. So instead, for the first time in many many seasons, she decided to approach.


Although she was never loud, Maple did not try to be quiet either. Sure that he would be able to hear her approach, though once she had crested the hill, the painted mare realized she had not thought of what to say. What words would do well to break the silence she had been carrying for so long now? Instantly anger blossomed inside her, and heat spread across her skin, causing her to snap her tail and pin her ears. “Why are you here?!” she snapped aloud, meaning for the thought to be for herself, but instead it tumbled out of her mouth as a demand towards the stranger.