It had never been so hard to raise her head. And she had that day when she'd been washed up on the beach in firm memory. A white stallion had saved her that day, but it became increasingly clear that there was nothing her fair-coated little girl could do for her but cry. The icy cold nose that nudged her side gave her no energy, nor could the breaking, quivering voice rouse her to her feet.

Not this time.

"Erthë... litla dúfan mín. Listen to me..."

The child shook her head fervently, didn't want to listen. But Shadow continued anyway, her voice growing fainter for every pulsating flood of crimson that left her.

"Erthë. You have a brother. I... never told you about him, did I... His name is Kari. Find him, won't you? Tell him... Send him my love. Tell him 'I'm sorry'. Won't you?"

Shadow persisted until the girl reluctantly nodded. It was unclear whether she actually understood what was being said, what was happening, but the Blackbird had no time to explain. There were so many things she ought to have said, and done, and taught the girl! How to walk without breaking twigs every step of the way, how to blend in with the mist and the snow, how to cover your tracks and fend of predators and offensive stallions. She should have taught her more about flying, about the fickleness of the wind and how to navigate by the stars at night... How to love, and how boys weren't always bad.

Ah, but time was running out, wasn't it. The sun was blinding in the sky, but to her eyes it seemed dusk was falling early. She could feel the tug of a different wind in her blood-stained feathers, hear the call of exotic birds in the distance.

"One more thing..." She coughed. Blood splattered onto the dark lips, her voice barely audible now. "This... The horn. It belonged to a mare named Psyche. I kept it after defeating her, because... because.... Well. I don't remember anymore. Take it, and these things too. Return the horn to her, won't you? Or to her family."

Again the girl nodded, and Shadow smiled, finally able to relax. It wasn't so bad to lie there in the sand after all, was it. The pain had faded so nicely, and the sun was warm against her skin. Erthë was so pretty in the bright light, a radiant star so precious that everyone who crossed her path surely must come to love her. The best thing she ever made.

"Little dove... I love... you. Tell your... father... 'sorry' and.. 'goodbye...'"

The face of her daughters face blurred and changed, altered into the visage of the pale stallion who had captured her heart without even trying - probably without even meaning to. With his name on her lips she breathed out one final, long sigh.

And then there was only silence.