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The delicately laced and saddled flutter always felt at home in the forest, for reasons unknown to her. Careful to keep her thin gossamer wings folded tightly against her white body, Alice carefully picked her away among the fallen leaves and sticks, pausing a moment to let her solid gold eyes take in the flight of a small brown bird, the simple and commonplace at still brining a smile to her face. Perhaps she knew the reason for her comfort here after all. The gentle business of it all, from the ants marching their way on the forest floor to the great eagles and forest cats that made their homes in the trees, there was always life, movement, sound. When Wintir was gone and her children were with their own families, Alice loved coming here among the trees to help ease her loneliness, or to help her ease her mind when she had thoughts of growing old and her family no longer needing her, such as she did now. It was true that the mare had baskets, and her own children were settling down on their own, and that she took immense pleasure in her grandchildren, and yet…

Alice sighed, flipping a lock of dark hair from her eyes, the chain on her horn rattling musically as she did so. She shouldn’t feel unneeded or useless, as it was obvious that she was not, but a mare was allowed insecurities every now and then, and she would feel happy and whole once more after her walk and her return to be with her mate and baskets. Feeling better already, her walking pace picked up a bit, and she hummed a nameless tune that she had picked up from a song bird once.