Morning dawned bright and clear over the desert; the storms that roved the northern lands held at bay in the sight of the rising sun. The sand and scattered rocks that had been left cold from the dark night and drank in the warmth as the rays of light greeted them, and in their midst, a young Pegasus walked alone. Megeara was thankful for the calm morning that lit her way back to Dragon’s Throat. She’d had a few hours sleep that night, but that had not been enough to heal her wounds. The large wings folded gingerly at her sides were shortened, the tips burned away leaking them charred and raw, the on her right especially so, the hair on her forelegs had been burned away and the skin there was red and blistered and her muzzle carried the same scarring.

The mare’s progress was slow as picked her way through the treacherous rocks. She was used to moving at a faster pace; she was usually the image of energy and bounding youth, and even more so she usually traveled in the air. Meg was often a bit clumsy on the ground, and her ever-shuffling hooves were often apt to trip over each other. Now-however, with her wings bruised and nearly scorched away, she was grounded and with her forelegs stiff and sore, she was careful and cautious with each step. Exhaustion still plagued her, but I suppose that was understandable after the night she’d had.

It seemed ages but it was only hours before that Megaera had nearly been consumed by the fires at Helovia’s Heart. She’d managed to escape the pit with her life, but it had still taken its toll, and even that had not been the end of her troubles. Delivered from the fire, Meg had come face to face with Mauja, and the two had only barely avoided a battle, which surely would have resulted in her own death. Meg was still so very puzzled by her meeting with the great spotted unicorn. She had flown from the fire and in her terror and confusion had nearly attacked him. She’d realized her error before she landed any blows but the cold stallion had stared at her with a fury, yelled at her as spears of ice had erupted from the ground at his feet. When they’d stood head-to-head, she was sure her death was near, but by some miracle she’d calmed the beast, aided by memory and impulse and a last ray of hope, she’d survived.

She’d woken near the great pit and had begun her journey south toward the home she’d only recently found. There was a part of her that still had doubts, that feard they’d turn her away when they saw her in this state, when they knew how stupid she’d been. And her had been stupid. The impulsive and recklessness that had driven her so close to the edge could be blamed on no one but Meg, and even Mauja, whose had appearance had distracted her and caused her to fall, hadn’t pushed her himself. You never think, Meg! You are always trying to prove something, and to who? she continued to berate herself as the walked stiffly south. Each step was a trial, and a reminder of her own stupidity. Stupid girl! You didn’t kill your father, didn’t escape that life only to throw it away now! Meg had never been so ashamed of herself. She wouldn’t blame the herd if they turned her away now, but she prayed that they wouldn’t. Surely they’d take her, Africa had been so kind, and Alina, dear little sister would still want her, wouldn’t they?

-lainespeak-
Tags: @[Satanic Silk]
Notes: Anyone is welcome to join!! Here is the extent of Meg's wing damage, she'll be able to fly again after she molts in the spring.