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

Darkness faded quickly now. One by one the stars went out, until only one remained. A light was kindling on the horizon behind her back, a band of silver that robbed the sky of its deep velvety blues. From the west, where the last of the night's darkness still lingered, a cool breeze blew in over the dunes, carrying along a scent of salt and brine, of things rotting along the shoreline. Whispering around her delicate ears, the murmurs of the wind almost drowned out the rush of quiet waves that lapped against the beach and chased tatters of cloud across the heavens - promising a clear, brilliant day, perhaps to make up for the dismal weather of the previous one.

Breathing in deeply the filly raised her head and let it caress her face and comb through the dense curls, felt it dry the last remnants of the night's rains from her coat and chase the sands from her legs.

Erthë smiled.

It was hard to remain sad and angry when the world around her was so beautiful. From the warm summer rain and the thunder rolling across the sky to the stillness of the present, this cool and calm instance just before the sun rose above the horizon; it was enough to make her chest ache with a bittersweet longing she couldn't put into words. Though her life was good, though her troubles were small and insignificant in the big scheme of things, she carried with her a craving, a longing and need for something more. Something bigger than herself, that she could be a part of.

Haunted eyes lingered on the spot where the moon had been until a short while ago, now drowned beneath the rippling surface of the ocean. Pain had kept her sleepless as of late, and Erthë found it comforting to follow the path of the moon across the heavens as she endured the aches in her leg. It made her feel connected to the Lady, somehow, as though she could sense the presence of the Goddess more clearly while bathed in Her light. Imagination or wishful thinking; regardless of which it eased the longing a bit, cleared her thoughts and lulled her back into sleep.

With a sigh the pale dove peeled her gaze away from the sky and picked her way off along the beach, slow due to the heavy limp and with something forlorn about her lithe frame. Erthë felt lonely. It was not a feeling she welcomed, or even understood - she had her father and Vlasi, Tembovu and everyone in the Edge - but it weighed on her nevertheless.

It made her wish that her mother was still alive, so she could have someone to talk to. Someone who, unlike the moon, actually offered answers.

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