"And now I wish to God that The earth would turn cold
And my heart would forget it's made of glass"

She stared fixedly into the darkness beneath the trees, slender chest heaving in bold agitation as she waited for a reaction. Shadows swam before her eyes, details blurring and changing as dual colored eyes strained to adapt to the pale, milky moonlight. Branches seemed to move and sway everywhere, and each snap and crack, every whisper of green leaves seemed to multiply until the very forest came alive. Erthë was used to the wilderness, had slept alone beneath the dense canopies before and knew every living creature within its depths. Even so, she felt a chill travel down the spine as a figure, darker than the night itself, emerged from the depths. Shadows, emphasized by the pallid bone of a glaring, white-washed skull and a glimmering, glowing network of veins along the spine, gathering into the guise of a stallion.

He was not the biggest horse she had ever seen. The Earth God would tower over him like he towered over her. Nor was he the darkest; her own mother had been a shadow personified, carrying no stain of light upon her pelt. Compared to the merciless gods of the Rift he shouldn't even be scary... and yet, for some reason the child felt her stomach grow leaden as he approached her, and a thrill of horror squeeze her heart with clammy fingers as she stared up into the masked face.

Because he had no eyes.

He spoke then, words rolling easily from a silken tongue, not half as captivating as the deep, rich voice. The dove didn't wish to listen, had no interest in hearing his defenses anymore but she found herself frozen in place, staring transfixed at the demonic creature as he lectured her. Like a drowning to a life raft she clung to her anger, willed herself to stay straight, to keep the head high. Another step and the distance between them reduced to something hardly worth mentioning; she could feel the heat radiate from his heavy bulk, smell the stench of musk and sweat and blood with every breath.

Despite herself she quivered, leaning backwards as far as she could without actually stepping backwards. It wasn't bravery anymore - only stubbornness - that kept her in place, hastily snapping at the gleaming bow to keep it close, at the ready.

Just in case.

"I'm not afraid of you" she replied. There was defiance in her quiet voice now, but she had to take a deep breath before speaking, and there was no denying that her knees had gone oddly weak. "I have fought against gods and emerged victorious. My efforts were recognized by the Lady Moon herself - I could kill you here and now if I wanted to."

Or rather, she hoped she could. A shot fired point blank would probably leave horrible damage at least, but whether she would be able to ply the bow before he skewered...

"I'm not afraid" she repeated, as if to convince herself that it really was true, "but if what you say is true... I apologize for making assumptions."

Pale eyes traveled from the deadened grin of the bone mask to the dark shape on the ground, her mind reeling from fear at the sight of it yet with softening heart. She might hate needless killing, but the filly had seen enough battles already to know what a painful death looked like. Upon imagining herself in the same place... yes, she too would probably prefer a swift end, rather than something prolonged and painful.

There was nothing heroic about letting others suffer, after all.

Turning back to the big, ominous stallion, she swallowed (not at all nervously) and shifted her stance, from staunchly prideful and commanding into something that could be likened to relaxation - if one could be called relaxed when every cell in the body was tensed to bursting point, prepared for flight at the smallest noise.

"I... I'm sorry for shooting at you" she added, a bit more reluctantly. Anger faded quickly but pride remained, not as easily forgotten. "Uhm... what's your name? I'm Erthë... from the World's Edge."

It was probably the strangest thing she had done in her life. Conversing normally with a stallion plucked from her nightmares, face to face over the carcass of a wolf... But she couldn't bring herself to leave. As scared as she was (alright so she was scared, she couldn't deny it to herself anymore), as much as she longed to turn tail and run, there was something about this person that drew her in too. Mystery, a sense of danger... The shivers down her spine wasn't all caused by fright.

"And all the pretty tulips would disappear
And never disturb me again"