He slammed into the back leg of the wolf with bruising force and find himself ricocheting back from the impact. Breath was short and his lungs unwilling to cooperate as the young colt fought to steady himself; the effect was not as grand as he would have liked. The wolf was still standing, his effort had only rocked it at best. And yet even as he straightened up the beast was barraged by attacks both physical and magical. The air was once again thick with otherworldly energies, and the pendant around his neck, the one remaining seal to safeguard his continued existence, kept humming and flickering in the faded light, protesting against the overwhelming forces that swirled around it.

But Cathun couldn't bring himself to care about that. What did it matter if he lived or died when Ranjiri, poor sweet Ranjiri was not there to teach him what life was all about? Megaera had made it clear that she was gone and that it was his fault, and nothing he said or did could dispute the truth of that.

An artisan had stayed while the warrior ran. It would haunt him until the end of his days.

Blood splattered red-hot and crimson onto his legs and chest as he retreated to collect himself, but though it hurt the boy welcomed the ache. It eased the constricted feeling of his heart ever so slightly, made him throw the head in a wide, sweeping glance to see who it was that had sent the sizzling, burning liquids splattering. Nearby was the battle maiden who had screamed after him as he left the last battle (Nyx), her horn dyed red with the foul liquids. Not far away another mare - were they all as fierce and blood thirsty in this god-infested place? - had accomplished a similar feat, her cream and golden coat almost glowing amidst the swirling shadows (Rexanna).

And there, shoving herself in between a sand-colored pegasus and a mare too beautiful to be made of flesh and blood, was... No. No, he was seeing things. Grief was driving him mad, he kept seeing her face everywhere, and in this chaotic sea of pain and blood.. how could she be?

But it was. He could hear her voice over the din of the battlefield, clear and bright as a silver trumpet, though laced with pain and anger.

"Ranjiri.... RANJIRI!!!"

Cathun stopped thinking. Without pausing to think or reflect over the goddess or the crumbling wolf he began to run, pushing and shoving his way through the billowing battle. Horses and wolves kept getting in his way but he was blind to them, kicking, bucking and biting reflexively with only one goal in mind; to get to the beautiful, wonderfully familiar girl he had thought was dead. She stood out so strong and vivid in his mind against the backdrop of chaos and death, ushering or shielding a kid who seemed to have strayed onto the battlefield (Erthë); he wanted to stand there too, help her and protect her...

A new kind of beast came darting at him, cutting across his path and for a moment obscuring the vision of his one and only friend (sorry Amaris). Rage exploded through his brain and drove off the numbness; he screamed and kicked furiously at the foolish monster that dared get in his way, and as he made to pulverize it beneath flaming hooves Cathun found that his vision was growing blurred. Tears did not belong here. Tears were for the weak, the dumb and the very young.

And yet he cried, out of gratitude and relief and a blinding, heart-wrenching joy that she was alive.

He hadn't killed her after all.  

Cathun

The firebrand