Sleepy Fox Hollow piltover

What even am I? The filly complained, as she caught sight of her reflection in a pond. She snorted and blew ripples across her image, waiting for a moment until the water stilled to look at herself again. 

She’d been a bay. Then her fur, short and fuzzy with a hint of red from the summer’s touch, had fallen out and she’d turned a mottled, darker shade with some hint of grey in her undercoat. Now, with her winter coat growing in, she looked darker than ever. 

Winterfox rubbed her dainty muzzle across Silverbirch’s rump, lifting the dark fur to reveal a shade of grey underneath. ”You’ll grey out when you get older, I’ve seen it before. Until then, you’ll just be a horse of a different colour every season.”

The elderly bay lowered her head to drink, her long, tangled dreads of a mane blocking her face from sight. Silverbirch studied her face for a moment, listening to the sucking slurping sounds as Winterfox drank, before she turned away. 

She stomped one small, hard hoof and was about to decree her own ugliness when she heard a bugle in the distance. Winterfox lifted her head so abruptly that her tangled mane slapped her withers. A mate replied in the distance, causing Silverbirch’s dark withers to shudder. 

That’s Fancy, She said. My Mom’s probably with her, She said, stepping forward. Winterfox nudged her shoulder, and moved on ahead with the same faithful diligence that she had led the filly since she’d been found. Silverbirch had a suspicion that Winterfox would simply be glad to be rid of her, once she was reunited with her herd.

The sorrel and the palomino stood together and as soon as Silverbirch caught sight of them she piped out a happy call, frolicked sideways nearly clipping the ancient bay’s hocks with a flick of her hooves, and dashed toward them. The bay mare would heave a sigh and follow at a walk. 

Mom! She called out, wondering momentarily if her mother might also think she looked odd- darkened with her winter coat, having lost the red-tinged foal fur. 

She shied, though, and slid to a halt when the scene before became curious- and then curiouser still. The bird that stood among the mares was freaky looking- having never seen a heron up close, she was immediately taken aback at the sight of just how tall the bird was. And beyond the mares, stallions met in combat. 

A nudge to her hindquarters from the old caretaker got her moving again, and she trotted the rest of the distance so she could reunite with her mother and lead mare, clacking her teeth together in a show of appeasement.