The goddess was all consuming. Her presence was such that the surroundings nearly erased themselves from existence. Every word uttered, every broken twig and uneasily shifted foot amidst the growing crowd faded into pointless noise, a mere backdrop to highlight her perfection.

Erthë barely heard what her mother said. She forgot to breathe as she stared in awe at the lavender-colored mare, hovering as still as a porcelain figurine beneath the black-feathered wing - until black spots began dancing before her eyes and nearly obscured the vision of the unholy deity. Tiny lungs inhaled greedily of the magic-tainted air -  somehow it tasted all the sweeter because she shared it with the immortal one. It really didn't make much sense. At a fleeting glance the mare looked like any other. Strangely colored perhaps, but not more than the foreigners that had been brought along for the ride as the green labyrinth was torn from one plane of existence to another. It was just that the lavender hue of the lady's skin was sweet enough to render her heart asunder, and every lash and wrinkle, every stub of hair and the lilac of her eyelids, everything down to the silken locks of hair was perfect. Too perfect. So much so that it could never be the shell of any mortal soul.

Only a goddess could be so flawless.

The child longed to move nearer, if only to see the sheer perfection from up close. With a slip and a shrug she escaped the protective embrace of her mothers wing and began to weave through the milling crowd. She had some practice in evading hooves, legs and flicking tails; this was nothing compared to the chaos of a battlefield. Her movements were agile, if not very fast, and while the filly tried not to think about it every step hurt. Blisters - or boils, rather - were rubbing against one another on the inside of her thighs, painful and full of fluid, ready to burst at a wrong move. The pain of them was on the level of Bear God drool - a searing aching itch you couldn't even imagine until it was all over your skin.

Erthë was just about to inch across the last stretch of ground towards the Lady Moon when something caught her eye, something so fascinating it even tore her attention away from the goddess. Blinking in astonishment she altered her path and slipped in next to a mare of cream and gold, horn-crowned and so pretty that if the Moon hadn't been there she might have been the focus of everyone's attention. Alas, compared to the lavender queen everyone paled; and in any case it hadn't been the dainty build or sweeping locks that caught the eye of the child.

"Does that hurt?" she asked, nearly breathless as she stared in awe at the chain that dangled between horn and ear. "Why do you have it on your face?"

Mother wouldn't have been pleased that she forgot to introduce herself, though Erthë didn't realize she had been rude until she'd already spoken. She twisted awkwardly where she stood, downy wings and over-long tail writhing in curiosity and embarrassment, and if horses could blush she would have been bright red about the cheeks where she looked up at the stranger.