This time she didn't care what he said, his bitter words bounced off her back like pebbles and caused no ripple, no stir, nothing but an angry snap of the tail as Erthë stormed down the beach, quietly seething. Ice spread across the sand and coated the grains in a glittering crust, her rage an icy torrent of silence that left her acutely aware of everything in the surrounding landscape. She knew when he turned, could see him slouch off in the opposite direction and imagined him sulking, beaten, defeated by her clumsy yet apparently effective display of anger. That he had laughed was in her mind nothing more than an attempt to save grace, to combat the well earned tears of mortifying humiliation he ought to shed now that he had succumbed to her superior intellect, her undeniable prowess in standing up to herself.

As she ambled on alongside the crashing sea Erthë relished the sweet triumph for as long as it lasted, sucked on the elation and confidence it game her until, gradually, the flavor began to grow stale on her tongue.

What did he mean, he "only had her company"... What kind of phrasing was that, like he was sorry to see her go! After all those things he said, who would have stayed? After those mean glares, all the things he did to her in the past... What did he mean by chasing her down and preventing her from leaving, when his whole attitude upon seeing her screamed 'get lost'... It was infuriating, because it made Erthë feel like she had missed some kind of point, as though it was she who had done something wrong and she ought to have stayed, to have cared, to...

But she didn't want to care. It was ridiculous, she hated the guy more than she had hated anyone before in her life. Rikyn infuriated her with those superior sneers he gave her, and had ever since they first met. The scene, earlier obscured in the haze of forgetfulness came back to her now and she remembered the time in the red forest where they had crossed paths over a dead god and a fairy-tale princess, competing for her attention and approval... But Erthë realized she remembered more than that. She recalled vaguely a bay body streaking across a battlefield, long limbs dealing swift blows to a rampaging God and a triumphant laughter ringing beneath revolving skies.

How irksome, that he too had proven himself brave and valiant that day. By rights it should only make her gloat even more now, after sending him packing, but it didn't. Instead something turned over in her gut that was remarkably similar to guilt, and without really thinking about it the filly slowed down, turned the head to throw a glance over the shoulder at the shrinking stallion.

"I've only had your company this long because I chased you down..."

Why did those words linger, the way they did? Why couldn't she just leave him be and let him rot? It's what she wanted, what he wanted. Right?

Clenching her jaws, the snowflower stopped dead in her track and remained there for several dragging moments, frozen in place by her own magic as the ice of damp wind and foaming waves began to build up around her cloven feet. Thoughts reeling, churning emotions and reluctance battled within her, but something clearly won over the rest because when she started forward again it was with a new determination. Faster she went, a swift (but lumbering and decidedly ugly) walk turning into a lilting trot, and when she found that her aching, stabbing legs still managed to sustain her she spread the wings in a whisper of silky feathers and ran, each gait mind-numbingly painful yet somehow still fast enough to lift her into the air. It was nothing short of a miracle that it worked - another time it might not, might have seen her tumble and fall, land helpless in the sand - but she didn't pause to consider this.

Instead she rose steadily higher into the air, battled the erratic bursts of wind to gain height until she could maneuver and then turned in a single, heart-rendering graceful arc and set off after the disappearing form of Rikyn. On her feet she might not have been able to catch up with him again but in the air she was swift and beautiful, possessing an elegance she would never be able to master on land; her vast wings brought her up alongside him with a few steady beats and kept her there above his head, a fylgja silently following in his wake.

She didn't say anything to him, because she was still angry at him for the insults and the condescending attitude. But neither could she stomach leaving him alone, not after hearing what she interpreted as a silent plea for attention.

He ought to be grateful, the stupid wretch, that she even bothered. He sure as hell didn't deserve her company. This was all due to her soft nature, her tender bleeding heart who would offer a hand even to a starving wolf, knowing it was likely going to get bit.

Stupidity on her part, no matter how you looked at it. She must be out of her damn mind.

_________________________________________

Waiting for the rain I'm bracing for the thunder
A twig that wouldn't sway in the wind