Moonspear why is my spirit so silver and pale

She writhed in her sleep suddenly, feeling far from peace- and soon one murky blue eye cracked open in a slit, as she gazed upward at what had disturbed her so. In the den stood another dark figure. Mira glanced confusedly back to the milk-giver- were there two? This one lifted her suddenly away from where she had slept, bathing her with a wet tongue. Disgusting. Her muzzle wrinkled, expressing the way she detested the feeling- and something low rumbled in her throat, as quiet as it was. The face of the second milk-giver did little to amuse her, and she stared on coldly, awaiting the moment she could drink and sleep again.