As much as you swore to yourself up and down that you didn’t care, your throat was still tight as you headed south. Idiots, the lot of them! The threshold had been a waste, that was all, you told yourself. Only the inefficiency of your strategy bothered you, you repeated. Over and over, you drilled the mantra into your brain, muttering under your breath as you traveled. It may have been mind-numbingly boring, but you would continue for as long as it took to remind you that you felt nothing. Because who cared that they hadn’t wanted you? What did it matter that you had watched from the shadows as they came to collect younger, stronger, more beautiful specimens? You didn’t want them either! If you had nothing else, at least you had your dignity.

The skies were ominously gray, and you darted an apprehensive glance upwards, choosing to distract yourself with the more immediate problems of your situation. With a light shiver, you wondered if it would snow tonight, hoping vehemently that it would not. You had almost made it far enough south to winter, but a storm tonight surely would not be good for you in your condition. With a touch of fear—no, not fear, caution, you corrected yourself—you remembered last winter and perhaps more importantly, how you’d barely survived it. You weren’t exactly looking for a repeat performance this year, which brought you to where you were now: the southern regions of Helovia.

Of course, never having been in a herd here, you knew little about and had taken equally little interest in the politics of the land. You had no idea that the desert you were roaming was actually the borderland of the mighty Dragons Throat, nor that you could go no further without having access to the herdland. It was only when you saw the ocean that your heart sank in dismay, realizing the gravity of the plight you were in.

As if it sensed your impending doom, the wind began to pick up, howling across the desert and throwing red sand against the matted hair of your once-white coat. Growing ever-faster, it whipped around you and picked up your tangled locks, sending the hidden glass baubles tinkling wildly against each other in a chaotic staccato rhythm. A low moan escaped your throat, rusty with disuse, and you stumbled away from the shoreline, where the waves were beginning to crash and pound with alarming intensity. Why you? Why now? If you believed in fate, you would have said that she had a sick sense of humor…but then again, you already knew that. You fought against the windstorm for a while, practically crawling along the dunes with your form bent by the wind, but finally it was too much. Succumbing to the mercy of the elements, you sank to your knees and buried your head in your chest.

What an unfitting end for a lady like you.

OOC: Looking to join, because desperate Sheba is desperate :3