New World, New Start

TYBALT His coming into the world was not filled with pomp and circumstance. There was no fanfare, there was no trumpet sound. It was only him, his mother, and her companion. And he was okay. There was not much to remember except her for voice, her soft yet strong voice. There was something behind it, however, that was laced with fear. He did not know why, yet, but as he would grow older he would understand. His father was dead. They were refugees. They were barely surviving. His teal eyes--his father's eyes--fluttered open. She was so beautiful. His whole body felt warm when he looked at her and those solid, emerald eyes. Ma. He lifted his head, blinking his eyes several more times as she moved around him. He tried to focus on her. She was up and standing and he was not. He observed her, his teal eyes so full of wonder and focus. He would stand with her, when she finished. Finally, Ma was done cleaning him and he lifted a wobbly knee. One followed the other and his tiny, new hooves pressed down into the soil. The colt heaved himself up only to fall. He repeated this transaction, brows knit together with determination. His small maw did not open, he did not bleat. He did not ask for help. Simply, he made himself stand. The process if figuring his legs out seemed to take hours and Ma was so patient with him. Finally, he was able to step forward without falling. His knees still knocked together and he felt tired, but there was something within him that warmed up just like when he had looked at his mother. He did not know it yet, but the feeling was pride. How that would scar him later. For now, the colt took milk from his mother and tried to memorize every part of her. He did not know anything else. Talk. I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea

image || coding

@Kyros Maybe?