It was snowing again. Like pale down fallen from an angels fluttering wings the flakes drifted down from a gray sky and blanketed the ground and the barren boughs of every shrub and tree in sight. With no wind to speak of the forest of the Edge was eerily silent, not so much because the stillness was unpleasant but rather due to it's rarity. With no leaves to rustle in a restless breeze and the falling snow to cushion the impact of your feet against the ground all that was left were the sound of your own strained breathing where you picked your way through the underbrush. In the deep, reverberating stillness that remained every action made seemed to amplify with importance, so that you ended up weighing your words, if indeed you dared speak at all. In the monochrome landscape of white and black the trunks of the trees turned into living columns, the arching canopy a natural cathedral hallowed to wintertime and murmured, intimate conversation.

Naturally, this overarching feel of peaceful serenity made Erthë restless. More than ever the girl wished to wreak havoc somehow, shatter the stillness like a fox exploding a peck of hens in the henhouse, not so much out of spite as to see them squawk and run about. She had been home for no more than a day or two, returned from the extended exodus to find that nothing had changed, for good and bad - and already she was itching to leave again.

Like a pale ghost, silent and writhing in soulful agony she paced through the forest, seeking something, anything to occupy her thoughts with. Time and time again she thought about seeking out this person or that, but the effort it involved seemed insurmountable. To actually talk to someone, wasn't that the most bothersome thing imaginable? How did you even start a conversation... it had been so long since she addressed anyone that the words had gone stale in her throat, clinging to the tongue and refusing to let go.

And yet.

If she kept silent any longer the filly feared she might burst from all the pent up emotion.

With something wild and impishly wicked about the eyes she turned abruptly and made for the cliffs, recklessly approaching the mist-veiled edge until teeny cloves teetered on the very edge, scraping loose pebbles that tumbled off into the soft, white nothingness that was open air. For a heartbeat she listened to the deafening silence - and then she shattered it with a scream that came from the very depths of her soul. On and on it went, reverberating back and forth throughout the silent landscape - a wordless cry of rebellious teen spirit that couldn't care less about consideration, politeness or proper mannerisms.

She screamed until her throat felt sore. Then she quieted and listened, breathlessly waiting to see what effect would be of this sinful act - peace shattered, silence disturbed, havoc wreaked.

She would be so disappointed if it turned out no one had even noticed.

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