we can't change what stays and what fades away
The pegasus' glee is practically palpable, eliciting a vibrant smile from Amalia in reply. More and more convinced this may in fact not be a normal horse (wings aside), she is likewise determined not to bring attention to whatever falsehood the Equid might be spreading. After all, she's cloaked herself in animal skin enough times to respect the need to hide sometimes. So she sends a pulse of empathy and acceptance through the bond, still smiling.
Would it be different, if she knew who he was?
The gourd vanishes into the undergrowth with a series of grumbles and rustling leaves, leaving the girl and the horse alone. Amalia has straightened, her eyes tracing the gourd's descent; now she turns back to the pegasus, surprise at his approach matched by a flush that warms her cheeks. "You know, I've never seen anything like you," she reports, her hands extending to offer soft scritches along his cheeks and between his ears. "Do you have a herd? Or are you alone, like me?"
Would it be different, if she knew who he was?
The gourd vanishes into the undergrowth with a series of grumbles and rustling leaves, leaving the girl and the horse alone. Amalia has straightened, her eyes tracing the gourd's descent; now she turns back to the pegasus, surprise at his approach matched by a flush that warms her cheeks. "You know, I've never seen anything like you," she reports, her hands extending to offer soft scritches along his cheeks and between his ears. "Do you have a herd? Or are you alone, like me?"
Amalia
