The evening was calm by the fringe of the meadow, mild, with only the softest of breezes whispering through the leafy canopy above. As the leaves stirred, weak streamers of light fell upon the spider and her vast, glittery web. She sat motionless at its centre, sewing so intricately each feather entrusted to her, onto a beautifully plaited string there caught between her hairy toes. She hummed a pleasant and wordless song as she worked, though her voice was so small only passing insects heeded its sound – she didn’t mind. Ilham was weaving this night and waiting, not hunting.

Far to the south of their busy arachnid sister, a yearling filly and a pale kitsune not much younger, were making haste in the quite opposite direction, snug against the tree line for fear of unseen eyes set upon their journey.

For a solid year the golden bellied daughter of the Gallant and the Starry-Eyed had traipsed warily to and fro through the seemingly endless regions of her birth land – Helovia. So many of the gut wrenching, convoluted memories which had been so desperately and dutifully bandaged beneath other brighter times by a mother’s withering heart, were resurfacing in the form of gruesome, incessant nightmares; fractions of shattered glass so perilous to touch, slowly piecing together again a hideous jigsaw puzzle that the girl wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to finish. What had occurred to the troubled yearling though over the course of her wandering however, was that demons from a tumultuous, forgotten past were tracking her every step and across her back seemed to lay a perpetual blanket of sorrow, loneliness and uncertainty - all irrespective of the splendid company she kept. It was a difficult burden for one so young and green to bear.

Above, the bare face of the moon was awash with eerie, yellow warmth; hue so freakishly sun-like, yet none of the season’s softening heat fell down to caress her prickling, cool hide. Zahra’s quivering lips slipped slowly downward through the dry air towards flickering ears which perched like yellow-tipped triangles atop the furred skull of her younger, canine sibling. Affectionately, Bird’s cool wet nose turned to nuzzle among the filly’s sooty, wiry whiskers. A curious and intimidating sight spread outwards before them – though ironically, it was one they had passed by both in thought and tread regularly for many months. Silent, restless flames lit the horizon, crackling playfully above the parched heart of the land (the lake of fire, they had come to call it), and all eyes were set intently upon them, dazed, memorised, as though it were an entirely new discovery to behold. This was no place at all for their delicate Ilham.

Fire...

The winged girl nodded slowly, lifting her pale face again high. Milky eyes drank cautiously the billowing radiance, all too aware of the danger lurking amid the show of writhing shadow and dazzling light. All about them was a familiar heat, a comfortable cosiness that she was yet to find in any other stretch of the countryside (perhaps it touched both a physical and emotional string in her conscience). Together she and the little kitsune stepped twice towards it, the fire, creeping still closer than they had ever felt so incline to before. Zahra was drawn nearer again, compelled by a force still greater than her own instinctive wariness; and Hanna, through the mind of her sister could hardly resist that same urge. Each expected a villainous roar to welcome their approach, blazing ropes to bind them and drag them in to certain death - but only strange silence saw them forward through the tossing wind caused by this unsettlingly beautiful place. The fire seemed not even to swell in anticipation.

The long breath the young pegasus drew was chokingly hot, and quite devoid of the moisture her lungs so urgently craved; she coughed harshly, loudly, and the enchanted collar resting still awkwardly across her narrow shoulders shuddered. Her body held nothing yet of the strength of her father, the brawn and the valour that he might once have hoped would carry on through this newest bloodline. Perhaps in time the lankiness would fade beneath layers of muscle, but thus far her form was merely that of a wanderer. Regardless, the collar sat still as clumsily upon her small feminine frame, as it had when entrusted to her all those many seasons ago (a lifetime, she felt). The filly wriggled beneath its weight – that of memories and fears wrought throughout its shining surface - and sighed heavily as the still beautiful piece slumped softly from her neck to the reddened, dusty earth beneath.

Already tears were pooling beneath her milky, nervous eyes, and though the thick lashes fluttered in defence around them, fluid apprehension seemed always to return like liquid summoned from the molten rivers she right then stood somewhere above. The girl turned her lips slowly to fondle briefly the old, tatty leather satchel that was tied against her elbow – surely it would soon disintegrate entirely. Zahra’s teeth sank beneath the loose flap across its top, and she drew out the same spear that she imagined had once wounded the Gallant’s own enemies in battle. Both items were so precious, so dearly cherished. But with that attachment came the grim burden of anguish that she really couldn’t remember living without; the items (and a few feathers strewn across the silk thread around her neck), were all that she had left of him and the love he’d given – that which she still craved so dreadfully. They were the constant reminder of all that was now and forever lost, of the debilitating pain which had broken the hearts and minds of the souls who haunted her sleep.

She had neither ability nor confidence to guard anything so sacred.

“Da...” She whispered mournfully into the gentle wind of the night. She had done the same so often before.

“I miss you.

The visions, they are overwhelm...” the girl paused bluntly to swallow the stone growing in her throat. Those seeds once planted by the Starry-Eyed, both the painful and the pleasant, were unravelling the confusing, soured story of two lives combined. “This is for the best now... all I can do to keep us both safe.” The note of her voice wavered as the pitch drifted higher, but soon the sound of her distress fell beneath a wave of wracking sobs.

Delivering the old spear and the gleaming collar to the flaming lake might have called upon every skerrick of courage and strength possessed by the unlikely siblings. Hanna clutched the smaller of the items gently between pearly teeth prepared, determined only to do as the other’s heart felt was right. But alas, Zahra had not the nerve to so straightforwardly dispose of her father’s battle-worn property; of the memory that she was unsure she could truly live without. “No,” she whispered regretfully. There would have to be another, less callous way. Canine eyes shifted to view the face of the confused girl and a small whimper lifted through the fire lit night. The heat was unbearable, and should they have been foolish enough to skirt the lake’s edge in the end, perhaps they would have been incinerated together, along with both the collar and the spear. Retreating still further from the heart of the land (undoubtedly too, away from the guilt and heartache riddling the frayed filly), the duo traced back the path that they had again followed to find Helovia's heart, towards the old wood that kept their patient sister.

---

Note: I’ve edited the last paragraph only. It now portrays the thought of Zahra destroying her father’s armour, but she doesn’t follow through. The reason for this is I caught up with the news and updates for Helovia, and realise that custom items can’t be so simply destroyed. My mistake and I apologise <3

do you live for the summer or spring?
because you don't feel like winter to me
you came through this town like a breeze
do you live for the summer or spring?