The voices told me to

The break in the rain was what Eira had been hoping for—waiting for. Fay was well grown and as far as the orphaned filly could tell, ready to resume the life which she’d been so meanly stolen from. The guilt surrounding that sneeze still sat like lead weight in the blue babe’s belly, and she hoped with some desperation that the pressure would be lost when the tiny Eriucla was at last set free. Tiny hooves, cracked painfully and brimming with thrush, picked a slow, hobbling path along the southern rim of the island of Floating Key. Their owner was a pitiful sight, emaciation yet visible beneath the threads of a never-shedding, long coat, but she seemed otherwise unaware of her own sorrowful plight; her scrawny, dishevelled figure came upon the familiar silvered timber of a young glow cherry tread at once the hollows of her gaunt face filled with flattering cheer. ”This is it little fairy,” her thoughts whispered affectionately, excitedly, lowering her too-large head towards the horizontal slouch of a small bough. The critter had been living in the warm, furred cup of her ear for many, many months—though on occasion she had ventured down her host’s face or mane, lured out by the temptation of fresh food. On cue, the delicate animal slipped from the safety of her dry nest to pursue the curious aromas of the tree that she neared. Eira shook her head with enough force to purge her foster-child from her hair. “Sorry,” she hummed as Fay scrambled fretfully along the cold, wet wooden surface of the branch and into the small crevice by the union; already the smiling filly felt relieved. Perhaps she might have lingered longer—to truly be certain that the creature would be okay—but the rather violent crash of a wave against the shoreline behind, caused her to turn suddenly. The wind along this coast was fiercer than she remembered it being on the mainland. As her soft gaze traversed the grim, grey horizon, she became aware of the presence of another horse, a pegasus it seemed—just like her. Distracted from duty, Eria turned around fully and began the short trek which would land her on the water-logged sand of the beach; the colt stood breast-deep in the surf, and worry triggered boiling heat beneath her blue, sickly facade. It had barely been two weeks since this very ocean had tried to claim her. “What are you doing?” she probed concernedly in thought, pausing her crooked knees just short of the visible waterline. “It’s dangerous out there, you know…”

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@Varuna - she doesn't have a horn yet, ignore the picture lol