"Days go by and still I think of you," That was the feeling most days. B'Elanna, more commonly known to folk as Belle, couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. She'd not been witness to the event that drove the individual that she still thought of to leave, but it didn't mean that she was willing to not find out the reason. Whether it was from her own cursed streak of curiosity or general fear of the unknown for the one that she thought of; Belle had set off to follow in the footsteps of a rather unforgettable figure. At first she could not understand what it was that drove her to leave the lands that she had called home. The stallion that she sought had been all too annoying with his casual air of flirtations with all the young, beautiful mares back home. Belle had never really been comfortable being left alone in the general presence of the stallion so she had always taken off running when he was nearby.
Now it seemed as if the tables had turned. She could have easily told a lie and say that she was sent to find the stallion that claimed her thoughts more and more, but the truth of the matter was that she had been consumed with the need to find this individual. What was it that drove her forward? What need was so great that she would take off during the darkest night without any provisions or alerting anyone to where she was going to start looking? Was it perhaps the fear that someone would try to stop her? The stallion she sought was still jeered at back home and the mare couldn't understand the cruelty that seemed to linger. Perhaps if she were to successfully locate the elusive one that she could warn him never to return. In essence she had deserted her own people to search. With that tenuous hold on her past rapidly deteriorating with every step she took in her search, the mare felt freer. She didn't have to conform to set mores or standards of the ones that she'd left behind. She could assume a new life, in a new land ... and maybe find the one that haunted her thoughts. In a moment of uncertainty, the mare stopped and cast a glance back in the direction she had come from. She stood silent like a sentinel, the expression of anguish on her face. Torn she was, right down the middle, conflicting desires playing on her features. With a heavy sigh the mare turned her back on her past and moved forward with a purpose only known to her. A name passed through her lips as she sighed deeply; with only the wind as company the name was quickly swallowed by the wind, "Gaston."
