It was not a good night. In fact, it was one of those nights where nothing was alright. Instead of being soothing and calming, the darkness felt tight, constricting and uncomfortable. Despite the nip of frost in the air Erthë was sweating, her pale coat damp and glittering with ice as she limped along next to the wall in reckless haste. Her entire body felt as though it had been caught on fire, boiling and smoldering on the inside, nearly melting the ligaments in every joint until moving around became agony. Walking was excruciating and she craved nothing more than to lie down, close her burning eyes and sleep... It was just that lying down hurt even more and the sleep she managed to get was riddled with nightmares that had her wake up screaming.

After jolting up like that twice she gave up and left the sheltered spot she shared with her father. Loathed to wake him - or anyone else, for that matter - she resumed the usual pacing, desperately trying to keep her thoughts on something other than that which she craved. Visions of red petals, of succulent stems weeping milky tears, dreamy thoughts of floating off on waves of relief constantly interrupted her... It was madness, a secret, silent battle she fought every night. Did they know about it, the people she met and smiled with during the days? Did they suspect that everything wasn't a dance on roses for the poor, limping princess who spoke so cheerfully despite all the sadness she had seen?

Erthë doubted it. She worked really hard to keep it hidden. Her father knew, probably, because there was no way he could have missed the stash of dried poppy flowers she kept in their glen. Badger knew too - she had told him, because the secret had become too great to carry on her own - and Rexanna.... but she lived far away in a herd she no longer called home.

No, this was her secret. The sleepless nights, the nightmares, the craving for relief from a pain that was constant and never ending, the long, restless walks down winding trails beneath moonlight or, in this case, distant stars. Her problem, her issue, her battle to fight.

Erthë didn't need light to find her way in this place anymore. She knew every stump, rock and mossy tree by heart, had come here so often that she was on first name basis with most of the resident squirrels.

Everything was quiet tonight though. Too quiet. It managed to penetrate the haze of pain and made her look around, tired eyes much too bright as she gazed around, ears pricked and hairs on edge.

"Hello?" she croaked, hoarse from exhaustion. Her dry lips stung as she ran the tongue over them, nervous despite herself - this wasn't the kind of situation she wanted to be found in. And this was on the borders, where a broken wall of glass offered only symbolical protection. A warning and reminder, not an obstacle.

"If someone's there, show yourself."

She stopped, still as a statue, and listened for a reply.

Erthë

and my knees are shaking - - and my dreams are breaking - - but i know i live today