The wind made everything trickier. It ruffled the locks of her mane and tugged on the curls in the tail, it pulled her feathers and made them ruffle and misalign. As if disagreeing with her decision to learn how to fly now the gusts kept pushing her back, resisted her attempts to flap the wings and gain speed as she dashed back and forth along the cliff.

At first the sheer rock and the height had made her nervous. The drop down to the jagged stone teeth and frothing waves was considerable, she kept a respectful distance as she crept along the rim of the world. But once looking at the view grew boring and the tickle in her stomach from peering over the edge faded, the filly was able to see the benefits of having no trees around. It meant nothing to get in her way as she practiced her dashes, and no branches to catch in her wings as she flapped and skipped and thrashed about.

Patience had never been her strongest suit. She was tired of limping around, tired of sweating down on the ground when the sky was clear and vast and the wind so much cooler as it swept down towards her. How cold must it not be higher up?! Why did she have to be small and short and unable to reach it - it wasn't fair, and she would change it. Now. By flying.

Only, it wasn't as easy as it sounded. Flap the wings, check. Make a dash, check. Coordinate the steps with the wing-beats and make sure not to trip over the tail? Not so much.

Infuriated that her body wouldn't listen to her, Erthë stomped back to her starting point and turned, hardly regaining balance before she set off. Faster, faster, with the shimmering white wings glistening under the sun, her breath a ragged gasp that clawed through the throat. With shoulders burning like fire she ran against the wind, teetering on the edge of the cliff, sweating from the effort. Up ahead a dark figure emerged from the woods and stopped, lifting the head into the breeze. Erthë felt a swooping sensation in her stomach as it caught under her wings and pushed them up, a first, tantalizing promise of freedom at last.

But in the final leap, her leg gave away. The accursed, weak, unresponsive right front leg that had received such a blow by the Crocodile God. It folded beneath her and with a scream the icy child saw the ground and the edge of the world come surging up to meet her, the impact only half as rattling as the the fear of tumbling down on the wrong side...