I walk slowly, my head hung low. It has been a year since I was born, four seasons have passed since my birth, and I was alone on my birthday. Mother had been banned from the Basin, and Father had abandoned me when he fled from his imprisonment. They were probably off somewhere else, not even bothering to think of me, their helpless daughter, trapped in a lonely, chilling world. I wonder if I even crossed their mind these days, or they were too careless and did not think of their firstborn. I felt abandoned, lost and alone. There were still others around me sure, but there were no others with wings. At least, not in this place. I was alone, left to rot in the chilling tundra.
I shiver, despite the warm light. The sunlight hitting the snow was near blinding, and caused my to squint my ruby eyes. I leave my wings tucked beside me, shimmering constellations dancing on the feathers. I was worked up, furious in fact. My parents abandoned me. Left me to the pile of savage monsters that reside here, that think those with horns are superior to those without. And so today, when I turned one, I let out my rage. Standing alone in a corner of the Basin, I let out all the fury I had been housing.
I let out a scream that bounded off the walls and corners of the Basin, echoing for several seconds. Deep inside something stirs, something in my gut wakes, breaking through the surface. My body glows for a moment before a large sizzling, cracking noise hits my ears. A flash of red and there was suddenly a fire burning before me, turning a dried bush into a raging little fire. I gasp, my brain jogging up a distant memory. I had almost forgotten I held a gift of lightning. Bloody red lightning that burns. With a smile on my lips, I watched the bush burn slowly... satisfied by the warmth. Shaking snow flakes from my thick, waving mane, I almost light my hair ablaze, standing too close to the flames. I let out a brief yelp, releasing my wings from their held position. I step back and flap my appendages desperately, blowing the fire into oblivion. I kick some snow onto the fading embers, making sure the fire was disposed of.
"These soldiers are not here to kill you; They're here to protect you."
ooc: for @[Lothíriel]
word count: 397
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