"I will be right back, so wait here for me until I return, okay?"

Erthë was pretty sure that was what she had said. And the girl had nodded, right? There had been a definite up and down motion of her head, one that she had interpreted as comprehension and agreement. So why, upon returning with a bundle of herbs held awkwardly in the coils of her tail, was barren rock and a cactus all that awaited her? The young mare glared at the spot where she'd left the kid as though the stones might spit her back out if she waited long enough, but when long minutes had dragged past and no sound nor wafting scent had revealed the presence of her protege she swore and turned on her heals. Taking flight without an elevated perch was always a chore, a pain in her gimpy legs but this time the sheer anger she felt at herself and the silly brat granted strength; in moments the pale bird was airborne again and had her course set for the coast.

Like a frosty northern wind she swept southward in wide circles, biting of searing curses that would have made her own mother cringe had she been there to hear them as she scoured the ground for Bathsheba. Frost spread like a blanket of destruction in her wake, all thought of control and restraint forgotten. Was it so hard to wait for a few hours? Was it impossible to listen when you were being spoken to, and stay put if you realized someone who ought to be there suddenly wasn't? What if the stupid brat had gotten herself into trouble, what if she met a mountain lion or fell off the cliff into the sea or, gods forbid, some overzealous Throat guard took her for a spy and did something rash? They didn't call it Dragon's Throat for nothing, did they?

Finding nothing on the northern shore after sweeping across it several times, Erthë exhaled in a sharp snort and set out across the strait, pushing herself to the limit as she attempted the journey she had only made twice before in her life. Unlike the time when she had visited Badger or the subsequent return to report his disappearance (no, kidnapping was the correct term) Erthë felt she had far less cause to intrude without awaiting the escort of a guard, but her worry for the injured kid overruled reason and inter-herd courtesies. Let it become an incident if it had to, she wouldn't have it on her conscience if Sheba ended up dead because Erthë hadn't been around like she'd promised... Of course it wasn't her fault that the snotty brat refused to listen to reason, but who would care if the worst should happen?

Luckily, or perhaps unfortunately, she didn't have to intrude far over the border before the filly finally came into view. ERthë thought her heart might stop when she spotted the painted frame lying on the ground, with two mares standing over her and a huge red stallion moving away from them. Diving down towards the red sand, she repeated the foolish maneuver of breaking far too late; as usual the impact with the ground made her want to scream as pain shot up through the never healing front legs, but also as usual whenever she did stupid things Erthë didn't have time to stop and wait the pain out.

"Sheba!" she cried as she wobbled forward, unsteady as much due to pain as to the shifting ground under her feet. "Stupid brat, I told you to wait for me! I said I'd be back so why did you leave on your own!? I swear to the Moon, I'll..!"

But as she came upon the fallen girl and the mares - winged and horned, familiar and unknown - her furious berating was cut short as worry overtook the anger, that still expelled from her in surges of frost-cold magic. Whatever moisture there was in the air turned to glittering frost such as the desert island rarely saw, covering the coat and feathers of the young philosopher and painting growing circles upon the sand; Erthë didn't even notice, immune to the cold as she was, too concerned about the kid she'd promised to help.

But Erthë had no cure for tears, and she didn't know how to find lost mothers. Nor did she know what to say in order to restore a child's faith in the world and her own place within it. Unlike Maren, Alune and Tembovu she had no wise words or reassuring smiles, no warm embraces or calm instructions to offer. Barely more than a kid herself, she was left bewildered and helpless, left to look desperately between Sikeax and the red pegasus who's name she didn't know in the hopes that they had something to say or do that might help.

All she could do was keep the kid cold, and that probably wouldn't help much at the moment.

Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking