That night Magika had fallen asleep nestled against the indentation of her mothers stomach. A perfectly normal picture of a family from an outsider's perspective. But there was no love there. Witche was a mare raised without a mother and therefore did not know the first thing about being one. She had no maternal instincts. The only reason she slept with her daughter like this was to provide some protection against the cold of night. The dessert was hot during the day and freezing during the night, and it was steadily getting colder as winter approached.

That morning Magika trembled until she awoke. Her breath emerged from her little nose as mist. She looked at her dark feathered legs to see a fine coating of ice before turning her attention to the world around her. Witche must have got up and left at some point during the night or earlier that morning. Magika was sadly accustomed to being neglected like this.

With a yawn she rises to her hooves and shakes off the ice. The longer hairs on her legs must be a trait from her father’s side, since her mother didn’t have any. Her father that Witche refused to talk about and the little filly had learned not to press. She knew that one day she would be reunited with him. The Desert wasn’t their home, they just lived here temporarily because the Queen demanded they be here. At least that’s how the young filly understood things. Maybe one day when they go home she will have a parent that actually loves her. But it was probably best not to set one’s expectations too high or risk them falling back to earth with a devastating crash.