heyyo this baby is lost and upset and oh boy first shah post in months  --

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Mama told me solemnly that she no longer desired to stay within the confines of the Throat, that she was better off somewhere else— somewhere where she felt less useless, where she wasn't surrounded by memories of Aurelia or her failures. An outcast, she said, that is what she would become because that is what she is. She told me that now that I was weaned and could manage on my own, she'll be taking her leave and I can choose to do as I like— whether it be to follow her or stay behind with the sands I'd come to call home. There was nothing left for her here, and with those final words she whispered her goodbyes.  I didn't speak as she kissed my forehead for what I could only assume would be the last time, did not flinch as her wings encompassed me in a distant embrace, and only after the sound of her thundering hooves faded into the distance did I cry. 

It was first only one isolated tear, slipping down my cheek in quiet solitude. It was pursued quickly by two more, then four and finally they all came tumbling down, one over the other— my panic settled instantly, erratically bringing ruin to my existence as my knees had bucked and I'd crumbled to the earth without further thought. I accepted the sand's embrace, the irritating kisses of the grains to my wet cheeks and the sweltering sun bitterly caressing my sorrowful features. 

And so I stayed there, for how long I do not know, but I remained for a long time by the way my joints stiffened and protested to movement. I shook and trembled, reduced to nothing but heartbreak in the presence of the Throat's sands. I was a feeble child, whose abandonment would be his downfall. I would suffer here quietly until the earth took me in, until my sorrow melted me down into nothing but a pitiful stain of distress. It took me a great deal to even try and pull myself together, to stop the wailing and uncontrollable sobbing and terrified quaking of my limbs— even days after my trembling has not ceased, a constant reminder of how foolishly weak I have become under the prospect of loneliness. 

In an attempt to get away from the reminder of Mama's goodbyes, I tried to fly. Yseult was not here to help me now, her guidance greatly missed as I flew through the open expanse that was the sky, wingtips grazing the moisture of clouds as I struggled to maintain a steady course. There was no way to tell where I was going, just the dreadful whistling of winds and threats of frostbite to tell me that at least I was still trapped in Helovia's Frostfall climate. 

My landing was painful and disastrous, somersaulting my way along a prickly ground until I hit a solid object. I lay on my back, huffing a great deal as my wings twitched openly at my sides, littered with dirt and debris I'd picked up along the way. Everything burned with the unfamiliarity of long flights and the force of my impact, a mess of bruises and scrapes scattered over my skin. I did not whimper despite the obvious pain I was in, and made no attempt to rise as my heart raced with the terror of descent. I lay vulnerable, attempting to regulate my breathing while trying to figure out where I was and what I'd crashed into. By wiggling my hind end I noticed the grossly rough texture of the object, that it was tall and somewhat round— a tree? My brows narrow as I fail to think of anywhere I'd been before that had trees, but nothing comes to mind. “Where am I?”
“talk talk talk.”