She runs.

Through the dark and into oblivion the girl flees, scraped knees screaming and black eyes wild. No thoughts, no reason; she is feral fear, a frightened fire, a burning bush with no dreams of caution or regard for what destruction is left in its wake. Gallop, stumble, gallop again; on gangling legs of red and gold the filly flies, with only one word to guide her path: east.

She does not stop until the grass grows brittle and the smell of sulfur stings her nose: and even then, the stillness is false. Sure, her legs cease their whirling, coming abruptly to a dust-cloud halt, but the girl's heart races in the narrow bronze chest, tha-thump, tha-tha-thump, a thrum in her ears. Steam coils thick into chill winter air, the slender frame glowing with exertion and pain, breaths heaving, hurried, as the lungs work overtime. Even in her exhaustion she is coiled and alert, adrenaline running a frenzied path through sweating cells; rabbit, prey, she trembles still, black eyes soaking in the stain of the Heart.

Is she safe?

A hot tear threads down her gold-slashed cheek. Her eyes sting. She blinks.

She may be safe. But she has never been so alone.

In the calm that settles the images form, crisp and unbidden on the whites of her eyes. Lace. Natraj. Fire and sun. The acrid stench of searing flesh. Monsters and darkness, the flying ground. The gold gaze of her family, freshly found, all she has left. Lace. Natraj. And she runs, like a coward... Trees. Flames, licking the sky. And everywhere black, black of the wraith with the gryphon's head, black like the blood that stains her knees, black black black like her hot, burning tears. Her body shudders in silent sobs, copper skin shaking over slender ribs; she doesn't know that she is crying, but the salt leaves trails down her narrow face, and pools of moisture in the dusty ground.

For the first time, she is well and truly alone, and she finds the experience a punch in the gut, a loss of a limb, the emptiness of an anorexic who has reached the realization that she is ill.

She cries, and in the distance two shrill whistles echo back, piercing her ears and making her jump. Eyes to the sky and she sees them approach, white beasts on white wings, one small and serpentine, one avian and broad. The girl's eyes widen and her jaw hangs lose, disbelief warring with hope in her heart. Warmth washes over her, an emotional wave.

"Kali?" she whispers, unable to believe."Fajira?"

The white gryphon croons and lands awkwardly on down, claws gripped tight on a concealed prize. Behind her, a dragon makes a graceful descent, reaching out to grasp the gold flanks in her claws. Elated at their discovery of the girl, the pair do not see the swift catch of her heart, the emotions that roll as the tide through her mind. Hope, fear, love, loathing, terror, turmoil, worry, wear. Atop it all one rises victorious, and she hiccups her sorrow and stares at the ground, suddenly gripped by the talons of guilt.

"I failed," she whispers, her voice in her shoes. "Lace and Natraj are gone. I ran like a coward. I failed."

And now, more than before, the yearling girl weeps.

[ @[Sohalia], @[Lena], open. Set at the outskirts of the Heart, 200 feet from the Sanctuary entrance. Permission from Chan to play Fajira ]

Tandavi