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Gemma hummed happily, and began to trot in small, slow circles around Layla and Aspen. Impulses to run about often seized her now, and she wasn't entirely sure why. But the rush of wind, the whisper of the breeze through her ears which lifted and tossed her forelock and mane was invigorating.
"That's enough Gemma. Let's rest!" Layla said softly.
With a sigh she halted, nose sniffing the air in the direction of the forest. She loved this time of day. All the smells of the forest were alive and danced about the world, and Gemma could almost imagine the mysterious concepts that her old mother had often described to her. Green, she had said. And, what was the other word? Beautiful. She shrugged. Someday she would ask what those two things meant.
"Cummin!" she whinnied.