Author's Notes: Written for the LJ community tammy-drabbles, prompt #45 – "tabula rasa."
"Perfect"
Onua puts her fresh start on life in perspective.
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Slick as silk, soft as velvet, fine as down feathers, she ran her hands over and around and across. A little stub of a nose reached out, searching, finding. Pink gums latched on, tugged experimentally. A small bottlebrush of a tail flipped furiously with success. A tiny hoof stamped, impatient. New muscle and baby fuzz quivered with eagerness.
The vibrancy of new and untainted life hummed straight from that little body through to her hands. Such perfection, such a marvel, this innocence. She had forgotten what that felt like, this unblemished canvas of hope awaiting the future. Who was she to put a mark upon it, to expose that perfect little life to the cruelties of the world? Perhaps it was selfish, clinging to this living, breathing representation of what she missed most of old Sarain, of the tribes, of home, but Horse Lords help her, this was something that felt right for the first time in a long time.
"I know it isn't much of an offer right now, but I'm sure we can turn it into something better."
For the first time since she'd found her way to Tortall, Onua smiled. She shook her head, cradling the suckling mountain pony closer. Milk dribbled from the makeshift mare's teat like the thoughts of a happy future that she finally let leak into her mind once more, and she told Thayet, "It's perfect."
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