Something in Misery’s gut twisted as she watched the pair above her. She felt longing... regret... but stronger than both of those, she felt envy. An observer might have ironically called her green with it if that observer didn’t mind a gut full of spikes in return.
But they were so beautiful, the pair of them. Him especially. She’d overheard the first part of his name – she knew they called him Tone. She didn’t know the name of the mare. She didn’t care, either. His lead mare. His first among many – the first of four equally dazzling females who were fortunate enough to bask in the light of his favor.
Stupid, jealous thoughts for a stupid, jealous girl. She pawed angrily at the ground but still couldn’t tear her eyes away from the display, even when the prickle of a self-pitying tear caused her to rub her head carefully against one foreleg. Her eyes turned up almost immediately afterward and they didn’t leave the sky until the pair had vanished. Then she turned and slunk back through the forest to her bed within a hollowed old tree.
She didn’t like staying in one place for very long. Sooner or later, the residents usually discovered her presence if she lingered and chased her away. Easier to leave of her own volition. A nomadic lifestyle suited her just fine. In her own mind, it was fitting for what she was.
Before she left, she always made sure to blight the edible plants closest to their Songs and send a cruel wind whipping through their hotspring. The calling card of a Misery. She did it out of spite and jealousy, for what they had and for what she never could.
She’d been in this place for too long. Nearly three months? The seasons had begun to change. She felt the bitter snap of winter carried on the autumn wind. It mussed her mane and chilled her front where her ornament didn’t cover. She couldn’t stay in this forest alone for the winter – she would have to move to warmer climates until spring began its yearly thaw.
Never before had she found reason to stay. Except now... when she couldn’t stop watching the pride and beauty of a stallion she could never have, who had made his choices and seemed more than content with his lot in life. Born to grace as the son of a legend. Her polar opposite.
So beautiful. She wanted him as she’d wanted nothing else. And of course... it would be impossible. She shivered into her bed of moss and tried to ignore the fading light.