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Fire dancer kicks despondent at the ash, steps sending spirals of dusky grey into the murky sky. She does not dance, cannot remember the last time she did; when Amaris was here, perhaps, or earlier, before her mother forgot her and she was cast away. Certainly while Natraj was by her side, his small steps mirroring her bold gold strides, his energy and laughter bright against her passionate reserve. Without him she is a candle free of wax, a falling crimson leaf that collapses without wind, a despondent, dirty filly floating purposelessly outside the caves, black eyes dull with too much age, too much despair.
She doesn't stray far from the caves, too weary and too wary to venture out into the world. Shallow breaths scarcely fill her lungs; her hooves drag uneasy lines in the sand as ears hang back, inattentive and disinterested in the world at large. Why does she bother going out, day after day, hoping against hope that the day will come? Why does she lurk on the sidelines, long for the sun she knows will never rise, ache for the family that has left her behind? Why does she care? Why doesn't she care? She knew the reason once, but days have passed and she begins to wonder, emptiness and teenage angst warring darkly in the twist of her soul.
She smells the wraith before she sees him. He stinks of blood, and rot, and vacant threat, disease and madness and underneath, something sickeningly familiar. Around a bend and behind a stone, her pace picks up into something joltingly mechanic, driven by a need, a twinged memory of purpose. Against her skin Lena's magic sparks, healing welling in her throat, threatening to burst into uncontrollable noise, and she wonders suddenly- can she fix him? That is why she's here, after all: to heal, to help, to risk herself for the sake of others. It's why she lurks outside the caves, why she has shunned the others around. A corner is turned, faster now, and the girl stops short in a cloud of ash, swallowing hard against the horrid sight.
Two black stallions, one whole and one not, loom dangerously in the girl's sight. One is broken, murderous, cruel, and the other diseased and grinning his rage; she sees this suddenly, her dark eyes wide, bright with the glow of the dragon's fire. Paladin, the name rings a distant chord, and she knows the other scent he carries so fate. So this is her herdmate brought low and broken, another of the Edge cast into the dark.
For a moment the girl debates turning in flight. The monsters seem occupied with one another, and perhaps have not noticed the light of her hair and faltering step. She could slip away, vanish from this certain doom... but she was no coward. Not anymore. She could not leave them here, as she had left Lace, could not acknowledge the shudders of her fear and the dread in her heart. Again she swallows, eyes darting from the broken unicorn to the black equine, wishing she were beside that dragon fire instead of at a right angle to it. It would be nice to have flame on her side.
"Paladin." The faltering note of the girl's voice hangs uncertain in the air, a hesitant song that the darkness mocks. She clears her throat, ears twitching uneasily. Lena had sung so bright and easy, but in Tandavi's throat the magic rebels, dances and fights and comes out a whisper. "Paladin," she sings again, lingering on the final n, drawing it into a hopeful hum, a promise of peace if only he hears. She hopes the other stallion will guard her back, that her foolish quest will not end in her blood, bot that hope is distant in the rush of magic that fills her ears, the overwhelming focus on power and health. Unaware, she shuts her eyes, letting the sound fill her, letting herself go, praying for his wellness while a tiny voice in her ear screams at her to thinkaboutwhatyou'redoingWHATAREYOUDOINGRUN!
THE FIREDANCER
for it was I who walked among the falling stars, and did not burn
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