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// Chapter 2 
// Story: The Little Matchstick Filly 
// by Snowy Flanks 
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In the cold of the morning light the poor little filly sat there in the corner with a smile on her face – the carriage had been traveling all night and it was beginning to descend into a small village, dusted with snow. The carriage landed in front of a small wood cabin. The filly opened the carriage door and hopped onto the ground. As she was walking up the footpath, the cabin door slowly opened and a old mare with a grey mane under a blue shawl. The filly gasped and ran up to to the mare she recognized as her grandmother whom she had been told had died years ago. The old mare looked at her granddaughter and smiled, then knelt down and wrapped her hooves around the crying filly who was burying her face into the mare’s mane. She picked up one of the flowers from the tray still on the filly back and slipped it behind her ear, then picked the filly up and carried her into the cabin. To the left was a fine brick hearth with polished brass vines curling around it and to the right was a table of pristine marble covered in a white silk tablecloth. As she walked through her down whispering sweetness into the filly ear and door closed behind her.