I'm already in love with Willow and Amala :D
Dust drifted through the Ruk barn. Small nickers and grunts was the only noise that reached Willow’s pricked ears. She shifted on her hooves and munched on dry hay, her rich yellow wings folded neatly on her back.
A young newborn filly squealed and fanned her wings. One of her light dusty blue feathers landed on her nose, and she sneezed. She fell on her back and squealed, rolling around and fluttering her wings in her mother’s face.
“Oh, Amala,” the mother hissed angrily, but softened as Amala’s ears drooped and head tilted.
Willow huffed, “You must be easy on her.” Willow flattened her ears and searched the dam’s annoyed face.
“Oh, stop. She’s my filly, I’m her mother.” Amala’s mother grunted and trotted to the door of her stall. She leaned over and whinnied loudly. Her green eyes were sad, but her expression fierce.
Willow barred her teeth, but anger didn’t reach the kind mare’s eyes. She knew Amala’s mother wanted to leave, but at least she cared about them. Well, kind of.
Amala squealed. “Aunt Willow!” She squeaked loudly, and Willow’s cheerful and bright smile appeared, but then quickly faded into panic.
“Ay! Yeah! Over here!” A hollering Sandwen shoved open the barn door, an angry expression plastered on his dark face. He wore no shirt, only thick leather trousers.
Another man with a long knife appeared, and he rolled his tanned shoulders. His bald head was sunburned, and sweat dripped down his face. His ice blue eyes glowed with amusement.
“That filly,” the dark man pointed past her dam and at Amala. He had a frightening look on his face, that made the steeds of the Ruk lower their heads in dread and fright. They opened their mouthes and growls rose from their throats.
Amala squealed and backed up into her stall. She covered her small, quivering body with her light dusty blue wings, and shoved her head into the pile of hay. Her chocolate brown tail flicked back and forth and she shook uncontrollably.
The bald man shoved the stall door open, but before he could toss his rope, Amala’s angry mother brayed. She arched her wings and puffed her chest, screaming at them with her stained teeth showing.
Amala looked up, but then quickly looked down and covered her ears and face in fright. She bleated loudly, making the Kihlari flinch again.
Willow screamed and reared on her hind hooves. The Ruk barn erupted into neighs and whinny. They blasted anger at the robbers and flared their colorful wings. Some kicked their stalls, and Amala’s sire brayed.
And of course, Amala’s mother charged. She knocked over the men with her wings and chest, and galloped out of the barn. She left her filly behind and soared towards the clouds, disappearing into the white mist.
Willow watched with her brown eyes and her heart sank. She whinnied, “GET BACK HERE! YOU HAVE A FILLY!” Of course. She only cares about herself.
The men lay on the dusty wooden floor, unconscious. One twitched and scratched his bald head, and the other just moaned. The bald headed one’s hand moved towards his knife, but he didn’t grab it. The Kihalri watched them and snapped their teeth to show they're weren't frightened. As if they weren't.
Amala bleated and peaked through her feathers. She slowly lowered her wings. “Aunt Willow?” She squeaked, her voice small and weak.
“Amala,” Willow said, her voice filled with dread.
The young filly looked at Willow and her wings sagged. Amala tilted her head to the side and flicked her ears forward.
Willow sucked in her breath and turned away, fighting back tears.
Amala- Newborn Ruk filly. Light brown filly with dusty blue feathers, chocolate brown mane and tail, 2 small socks and a white stripe down her face, midnight blue eyes.
Willow- Ruk mare. Reverse dapple bay mare with rich yellow feathers, black and brown mane and tail, 4 white socks.
I hope you enjoyed! (Btw, this was just so you know what happened when Amala was a filly)