Alina watched Midas as he spoke, looking for signs that he was joking with her, but found none. The dove turned quickly to Virus with a puzzled look. Did he know about these equines? It was hard for her to fully grasp it. It was like she’d been told her whole life that black was black and then someone came and told her that is was white and not black. But she could not find any proof that her Sultan was playing a trick on her so she just had to accept that there was nothing wrong with the hornless unicorns in Helovia. The realization made her feel really stupid, because the only reason why her belly and legs were marked by fire was because she had thought that poor hornless Ricochet had been in need of comfort.

"Oh, I guess that explains a great deal…" she mumbled.

Then Alina pushed away all thoughts on the matter and remembered something she’d wanted to address one of her Sultans' with. Since she had been feeling more and more at home in the Throat she wanted to take more part in the welfare of the herd. She wanted to help with whatever she could before winter came and she would maybe freeze to death.

Stepping a bit closer, but staying near Virus for support the dove said: "Midas, is there anything I can do around the herd to help. I mean, I am no soldier, as you surely can see, but maybe I can help the healers? I am not squeamish when it comes to blood.”

Blood, blood, blood. The word echoed in her mind and brought forth disturbing images; images of the first time she really saw blood and gore, guts and ripped open tissue. Calmly she waited for the scene to fade away so that she could see her Sultan clearly again. But it didn’t and slowly panic rose inside her.

Not now. Not now. Not now. she chanted but to no avail. The spiral had started and she didn’t know how to get out of it. What would Midas think? There she was, claiming she was not squeamish around blood and the very word affected her. This was so embarrassing! You should be embarrassed… a voice inside her scolded. You know that you have the control over how you feel, I taught you that. The voice turned into her father’s. And yet here you are, trapping yourself in a spiral of anxiety. Pathetic. She knew her father would never say words like that, but it still hurt.

The little dove’s vision turned dark and she began shaking slightly. The dizziness came over her and the only thing she could think was: I must not fall down. Then the hyperventilation came like a letter in the mail and she was sure she would faint. But a small voice at the back of her mind began chiming You can keep standing. You will keep standing. It is impossible for you to fall. It was the voice of Josephina; the mare she was named after, the mare that Alina wished had been her mother. The voice became louder and in the same order as her symptoms had surfaced they subsided. Before long the little dove had returned to the real world...

She shook her body and smiled at Midas like nothing had happened. She found it easier to just pretend that she wasn’t aware of her episodes. Most who witness her attacks refrained from asking and if they did ask and she looked at them uncomprehendingly no one had ever asked a second time.