The goddess wasn't wrong. Erthë had been stronger as a weaning foal than she was now, propelled forward by eager selflessness and a complete lack of fear of consequences. She had been braver before she learned what death was, more daring and confident when her legs still obeyed her and her nights were free or nightmares and throbbing pain. That she, in her stupid decision to get involved in a fight without the strength and skill that was required, might be the ultimate cause of her mothers death had sown seeds of doubt within her. Creeping vines of guilt and grief that, like ivy which slowly smothers an impregnable fortress, undermined the confidence that founded her entire existence.

Erthë wasn't wholly conscious of this. She was so good at keeping up the facade of spunk and exuberance that she even fooled herself, not noticing that she was turning into a bubble of glass, perfect on the outside but hollow inside, fragile enough that a careless tap might make her shatter. Insecurity thrived in that empty void, enough so that seeing her wayward father look at another child made her question their whole relationship, from her love for him to the very purpose of her own existence.

It wasn't very pretty; she wasn't perfect, and had never tried to be. Just like her soul the small body held scars, souvenirs from bad decisions and the price she had payed for stubbornness. Even now toxic substances pulsed through her veins, consumed in excess to cope with pain she believed she would have to endure for the rest of her life. Maybe it dulled the ache of longing for a mother that would never come back too, perhaps it had become a crutch against which to lean - a reason not to try harder, a shackle placed on herself by herself, much more than by others. Perhaps it was to hide this that she had begun to put so much stock on what others thought of her, what they saw and felt when they looked at her.

It wasn't even something she had actively decided to care about - it just happened gradually on its own, while she was busy hiding from herself.

No, Erthë was not actively aware of all this, but as she listened to the Lady and felt her own determination falter from the truth in Her words the girl became aware that she had indeed lost something more than a parent that horrible day on the Flats. She didn't recognize her own reaction, the dejection and confusion upon hearing that she ought to live for herself, for her own sake and not for others. The immediate reaction was to protest, to shake her head and reject it all - what meaning can there possibly be if I'm the only one who see what I become - but she didn't dare.

Instead she lowered her gaze and shook her head, obediently agreeing with the example; "No, I wouldn't like that."  

The Goddess smiled again, so kind and gentle as Erthë had never seen her before. Was this the same divine creature that had flung mouthy mortals aside as though they were mere flies buzzing around her exquisite ears? Had she truly battled another god on a field drenched in blood and sweat, chewed out kings for not being where they should and wreaked havoc across Helovia on countless occasions? In the midst of her inner conflict Erthë couldn't help but marvel at this new side of her. How many facets did this woman have? How many colors did she hide within her shadowy folds, unseen by mortal eyes who only perceived what was right in front of their noses.  She felt privileged to be allowed to witness this side of her, and as this emotion solidified within Erthë's spirits rose again, enough so that she wasn't crushed when the Moon God gently rejected her offer.

Looking up at the regal doe as she continued to speak however, the young cygnet pricked her ears at a turn of words that tasted almost like a clue, a hidden challenge. Was she imagining it?

"I would! I do! Does... does that mean there is something I can do?" she asked, the whole of her body coming alive at the thought of having a mission.

It was a difficult thing to grasp indeed that it was her attitude and reasoning that Lady Moon was talking about. Not the things she did in life, but why she did them. It was a nuance, but an important one, and while Erthë was by no means stupid she was so wrapped up in the idea of acting that she couldn't fully take in the true meaning of what was being said. Later she might recall the wisdom of the message and be able to understand... but for now her mind was swimming with the idea of adventures and challenges and maybe even a bit of glory, and the look on her face as she gazed up at the goddess was imploring.

Surely there had to be something she could do, that would help others and help her understand the true meaning of this lesson.