Wild Things

otem You'll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold The figure before her could have been anyone, though it was not anyone that Otem knew. She had stayed in the Throat for much of her life, only venturing out to see the areas that bordered it a few times before all of this had happened. And so, despite his white-tipped horn, tell-tale magic or physical resemblance to his parents, Otem looked upon the stallion with an expression of incomprehension.  "I haven't seen any yet, but this place seems like it would have monsters you know." Otem said halting a few feet away. Her wings were tucked against her sides and her voice was the rather matter-of-fact confident lilt only children seem to have. Her eyes, one gold and one burgundy, looked down upon him curiously wondering what could have provoked him to just ... lie down like this. Her mother had been annihilated in a flash before her very eyes, and although she had run away from the remainder of her family and all that she knew and held dear, she was at least still standing. Even if she was dead on the inside. Then, thinking it over for a moment, she continued, "Are you hurt?"

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