Note, this is uneditied, unplanned, and un anythign. I just felt like working on something before diving into one of the stories I plan to publish.
I never understood why I was so special, why so many ponies always stared at me.
Was it my earthen coat and the I hid it under a cloak? Was my defining factor my cutie-mark, a simple symbol born upon my flank.
Possibly, their reason could be something else.
I only ever came into town once a year, the same day as the summer sun celebration, every year.
I'd been going longer than the town had existed, each time quickly retreating to my woodland home.
When I first awoke in the woods, I had no recollection of my mother or father, nor my sisters or my brother. All I felt, all I knew, were the roots that embraced me, and the voices, discussing me.
"What is it?" One voice, curious and energetic asked blatantly.
"It doesn't look like one of us!" Another said, sounding upset and mean.
"I like it..." Said another voice, soft and motherly. I felt the roots beneath me hug me gently and pull me away from others.
Eager to see the location of these voices I looked about, seeing nopony but trees. Quietly, I looked up at the one closest to me, and titled my head slightly so I could see it better.
"Mother?"-was the only word my young mind could muster.
Several decades later, a day came when I first met other ponies, Two sisters, whom treated me as one of their own, and later showed me civilization. The city, of Cloudsdale. There, I hid my horn with a cap, and worked side by side with them, living in my woodland home, but communing with my fellow ponies whenever I could. While working there I met Wintercry. We married the following year. Then, he died in an accident at work, before I was able to reveal to him that I was an alecorn, and, with foal.
After Wintercry's death I left Cloudsdale forever and returned to the Forest. When the filly was born, I was thankful, for she bore no horn, just wings, and I placed her on a doorstep on the edge of town, with a note of her name.
I know not when I'll see my daughter again, or if I ever will. Yet I, Floria, will stand watch, till I can hand over my woods to my sweet filly at last.