The crack of the large, straight pine collapsing from where her magic had damaged the trunk was savage, echoing about the valley as it crashed down and into the woodlands surrounding it. Birds took to the sky, their indignant cries washing out the sound of her laughter as she circles around to the fallen giant’s top, having been careful to be far enough away that it wouldn’t crush her when it came down.

"Holy crap!" exclaims the nearby colt, bounding forward on cloven hooves to examine the charred stump that had once supported the tall conifer, his eyes wide with wonder and the cuss word ignored by his dam, missed entirely by the boy who had said it – he was too busy in his teeming head to worry much about what was coming out of his mouth, and she had to admit it was a better than “Moon’s tits!” as she had heard him exclaim last week.

She really should be more mindful of her tongue around him, she silently chides, the comforting weight of Kyst upon her back as she lets her will gather along her horn once more and begins the work of removing the thicker boughs that cannot be broken by physical strength alone. She has to work quickly before the tree dries out – wildfires don’t sound pleasant, especially with the lingering damage of the fires they had used to ward off the wolves when they had attacked.

A sigh slips from her as she spies the blackened patches of earth around the lake, the silvery sounds of its shores filling in the spaces that her crackling lightning and the coming blows on the bark left mute. They may not have liked Psyche, she thinks bitterly, but more damage has come to the beautiful features of the land beneath her rule than it ever did in the Empress’. Maybe she should be thankful she was worth bothering, that their children were tasty enough to lure a young pack to their deaths – but she was mostly bitter.

Her world was meant to be beautiful and without flaw; from the ruined hillock of stones to the charred grasses, it was slipping further and further from its pristine perfection, and while few probably cared but her – it still raked at her.

"Rikyn," her voice commands, and the boy looks up obediently and trots over to her even before she can tell him what to do, "get these small branches loose, will you?" The colt does as he is asked, grimacing at the tart taste of the sap on his tongue.

"Dis twee tase ‘orrible," he grumbles, and Illynx laughs with her silvery lyrics for a few moments as she continues to blast the more resilient branches free.

"Its why we eat grass, not trees," she says sweetly enough, pausing to pull aside the freed branches to better see what still had to be done. At least, she notes with a smile, the branches that fell face first into the earth have already been broken off.

The conversation lulls into nothing after the boy gives her sour look that she replies to with a casual wink, her work filling her thoughts and actions until there is a barren, tall post of pine where there had once been a felled tree. Smiling happily with herself, she steps back to observe their work, her boy falling in line alongside her – still looking hard and with great interest at the black remnants of the stump.

She’ll need help moving it, she decides, but she might as well pick out her next foliage ridden victim while she waits for someone to amble by.

@[Beowulf]

[ OOC: Also open to anyone who wants to help Beo move big ass trees to the front of the herd. <333 ]