As a child, a Flirty Horse was living with her parents in a big city. She attended an ordinary school, where she was taught math, physics, chemistry and how one should live and also what one should think. But once, on the way back home after an exhausting day of studying, she met a beggar, who was staring at her and smiling so happily, that she stopped in the middle of the street, intrigued and curious. “I know you, – the beggar explained, – You are a Flirty Horse, you were born on a blossoming meadow, grew up with bees and butterflies. You were an orphan from birth, so the social workers didn’t know what to do with you and found you stepparents. I know them, too. They are nice, but very busy people; they were sure you need education and sent you to school, so you could study there, how to multiply fractions and how to live and how to think the thoughts of other minds. And in this ordinary school you learned that you are an ordinary teenager, but you’re not. Because you’re a Flirty Horse, dear”.