The grains of dirt ground against her side, tiny thorns against her skin. Alone, perhaps, their sting might not have been so intense; but a twig here and a stone there combined with the incessant stabbing of the ground to leave the little lightning girl immobilized, the marking on her neck flickering angrily as she waited for the overwhelming sensations to abate. It hurt, just as it always did when she was confronted with physical contact, but she was learning to think beyond the pain. She had just begun to realize that if she lay still, if she waited patiently, the storm would pass and the sun would return, and she would be on her feet and off to play in no time.

Of course, that didn't make it any more pleasant.

With a soft groan, the girl rolled to her stomach and lunged to her feet, moving quickly to avoid prolonging the process. Tears still wet her cheeks as she sniffled once, twice, thrice; but the prickling pain was fading now, leaving her disheveled and dirty, alone in the meadow. She crinkled her nose in disgust and irritation, for now Mother would make her bathe when they returned home, and the water of the Falls hurt more than anything. Well, except for being born, maybe. That had been quite unpleasant, indeed.

Not that she regretted being born. Oh, no, the little princess was far too intrigued with the world around her (however hurtful it might be, at times) to wish her life away so easily.

A voice made her jump, and she twirled comically toward the sound, splaying her stick-figure legs to halt her movement and avoid tumbling right back down to the ground. The voice belonged to a unicorn stallion with a stunted horn, who stood watching her in what she imagined to be a curious way. For a moment, the girl considered running back to her mother (she had been warned quite often about stranger danger, you see), but the stallion didn't look menacing. At least, she didn't think he did.

"The ground hurts," she complained crossly, tiny forehead creasing in frustration. Her voice was bold for her size, rising to defy the illness that had plagued her since birth. She huffed. If it wasn't for that, maybe she would be able to fly already. Her head tilted, her gaze inquisitive: "'f you can't fly, how come you fell down?" she asked about his own experience with the biting ground.

"Talk."

@Caneo