Everything was agony. Her body ached and throbbed from all it's injuries, the internal bleeding hardly the most painful - it was only a mild discomfort in comparison to the knee that had swelled into double its normal size by now, or the wing that lay thrown over the sand, broken and useless. She was but a remnant of the black vixen that used terrorized the waters of the oasis, passing snide remarks and unwanted advice to everyone that dared come close enough to listen.

Even the golden sand that sprayed over the inky frame as someone landed nearby hurt. Shadow wanted to turn and snap at the unseen someone to back off, tell them she was busy and in pain and not in the mood to play games right now. Somehow she couldn't manage to lift her head off the ground. The only thing that escaped her as a wing spread out across her broken body was a pained whimper, a gasp as agony stabbed through her, so overwhelming that she barely registered the voice of the stallion.

Midas.

Recognition and relief felt like balm on a wounded soul as she listened to his worried voice, hardly caring about the words. Strangely enough she didn't feel bitter - she would have needed him earlier, when her life was hanging by a thread and all she needed in this world was a friendly face. But how could she expect him to show up before her so far away when this was the place he belonged, the place where -she- belonged... she just couldn't. And so she couldn't blame him for showing up only now, when it must be too late already.

Shadow struggled to pry a dusky lid away from a dry, tormented eye and searched the nightly sky for a glimpse of him, too tired and weak to lift the head. She felt his nose run over her skin, it was painful, wonderful, how could something hurt so much and feel so good at the same time?

"Midas..." she whispered with a voice cracked and dry from thirst and strain, rough and tired and yet.. so strangely mild. "You... need to know.. Equines... planning.. bad. Heard them, they.. broke wing, and chased me, and..!" The memory returned with painful clarity and in her weakened state the mare forgot where she was, thought she was still back in the dripping glum forest with mad stallions chasing after her. She struggled to move, shrieking with cracked voice as an attempt at moving the fractured wing set pain stabbing through the entire limb; the head struggled to lift itself up, and without consideration for the foal she kicked with her legs, wanting to get up despite the horrid condition she was in.

Life was running from her drop by drop, but still she fought to save herself. How could she know that all the moving around only worsened the tear on the inside, preventing the blood from clotting...