All students were not equal. Not all students were easy. It Atticus was a mind reader she would have agreed outright with the golden mare. Her white flesh gleamed like bleached bones in the high sun of the academy. Winter may never touch this place, but her eyes were cold like eyes. Violet and stormy. Strange colored - just like her brothers. The brother she actually missed right now as she wandered alone. A feeling she did not often feel not to mention a feeling she would never admit to her brother.
Then again she never had any special gifts or elements to help her grow. Brute force and strength is all she had. All she knew. And she was often the one who had her brother's back and not necessarily the other way around. Her hooves cut into the soil with each step she took. Her wicked eyes searching. Seeking the one the Elders said would be her teacher. She noticed a curious mare, seemingly watching and waiting for something. Atticus sighed, but it was not a lighthearted sound. Her eyes narrowing, disgruntled to say the least. So this was her great teacher. A young mare. Barely off the starting block.
Great.
She stopped before her and her violet eyes never seemed to change. Her cool voice was steady, even without the comforting touch of her brother's muzzle. "I am Atticus. You must be waiting for me." Her voice was not necessarily kind, but it was not altogether ugly. A thorn among roses is still a part of the flower...right?
Oh Courage you sure have your work cut out for you.
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