Quite suddenly, one of the stars began to fall. From a tiny pinprick barely discernible next to the light of the others, it grew steadily in size and brightness as it descended towards the canopy where the runner laid. For a long while it really did look like a star; then, as it fell down through yellowing leaves and evergreen needles it became apparent that it wasn't so much a star as it was a comet. A very small meteor, blindingly bright and reeking of frost-cold energy. Completely without a sound - save perhaps from the churn of freezing air and curling leaves in its wake - it struck the base of a tree just by the singing refugee in a small explosion of premature winter.

For a moment there was silence. Then the stillness of the night was broken by the sound of wing beats and a terrified voice, not bells and silver so much as it was cymbals, xylophone or perhaps steel pans. Melodic for sure, just not as hauntingly beautiful or memorable.

"I'm sooo sorry! Are you okay?"

As though were she the tail of the fallen comet or perhaps an angel tumbling from grace Erthë burst down through the treetops, bringing down small twigs along with leaves green and brown alike in a messy downpour that splashed into the stream. She too landed there, cloven hooves breaking the surface such that the water was brought higher into the air than she herself was tall; but as she hurried towards the mare who's song had intrigued her into carelessness the steps caused neither ripple nor splash. There just wasn't any water there to do so anymore, turned instead to solid ice that appeared just where the girl set down her feet. From the coils of her long tail dangled a bony looking bow, gleaming of pale ivory even in the gloom beneath the trees; Erthë carried it high enough that it wouldn't come in contact with either water or muddy banks, but her focus lay entirely on the stocky girl and the slowly melting ice that showed where the arrow had landed.

"Oh thank the Moon, you weren't hit! I'm so sorry, I got distracted.. got to stop doing this, one of these days I'll end up killing someone!"

Ruffled and flustered and completely unaware of how pretty it made her, the young mare smiled apologetically as she lowered the antlered head towards the painted lady. Her gaze was intent as she examined the mare, taking in inky horns and toffee and cream colors without a trace of surprise. Indeed, though the mare was pretty enough in her own way, according to Helovian standards she was rather plain indeed, lacking colorful markings and possessing neither gold nor silver trim or even remarkable eyes. No, what was more interesting were the traces of exhaustion Erthë imagined she saw; faint lines of strain around the eyes, a thinness over the ribs and the dark stains of old sweat in places not easily reached by water. Had she been running? Why, though, and to where?

"I'm Erthë, I live around here... are you from Helovia?"

Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking