Dark. It was so dark. Her thoughts were filled with it, slow moving shadows so dense they might as well be physically present. Before her eyes they milled and crowded, filling the air and suffusing her lungs, merging with her flesh and bones, with blood and soul until she too became a shadow. Merely drifting. Barely existing. Trapped, unable to return, suffocated and protected.

But not enough. The sleep that wasn't a sleep was not deep enough, not thick enough, the darkness not black enough to blot out the light that persistently pressed against her eyelids. It could not shield her mind from the memory of pain, nor from the new, cutting, stabbing jolts of agony that lit up the inner landscape of her mind like lightning on a dark night. Over and over again it came, that searing and burning sensation, and somewhere deep within Erthë recognized the dancing lights for what they were. Pain. Consciousness. The insistent call of reality that demanded she wake up and realize what was going on.

But she didn't want to. If it hurt this much through the numb haze of unconsciousness then waking up must be horrific, damning, unbearable. How was she supposed to handle this kind of pain, that was probably not of her own doing - the kind of pain that she couldn't swallow, grit her teeth and push through, because it was senseless and pointless and cruel? She clung to oblivion, desperately seeking to avoid waking up. But the more she struggled to not feel, the more aware she became of the pain, of the stabbing pain as something pierced her skin and the horrible, jerking sensation as flesh was torn open, exposed to air that wasn't cold enough to make the blood smoke and steam.

Not a sound came from the throat of the girl as she lay unmoving on the ground, but quiet tears soon began to leak from the corners of eyes where lids had begun to flutter. Not quite open, not entirely closed; light streamed through and through the haze of fear and agony Erthë received an image of something standing over her. Big and contorted by the skewed perspective, blurry and vague... was it a wolf come to feast on her flesh? Some legendary beast intent on feeding her still breathing body to the next generation of monsters?

But no, the shape was too familiar, and Erthë had no choice but to admit that the monster was a horse like her; bloody red as the liquid that stained the snow beneath her, and with a voice as sweet and terrible as a poppy flower. Oh, how she longed for that sweet relief now... for everything to end in a numbing swirl of nothingness, until only happiness and pleasure remained.



For the longest time after the hoof falls of the creature had faded into silence, the fallen angel lay motionless in the grass. The light from the sky had faded still more and snow was falling, solitary flakes that did little to soothe the burn in her body. Fear of moving numbed her; she was terrified of raising her head to look at herself, unwilling to see what had become of herself. The stench of blood hung thick in the air so she knew the wounds were substantial; not moving might get her killed too, should the blood continue to flow unchecked.

Whimpering in agony she bought the head up, slowly, painfully; bloody crusts cracked and began to bleed, and without giving herself the chance to chicken out Erthë glanced down on herself. In an instant the world began to spin as bile rose up her throat; over and over again she swallowed to bite back the nausea, her numb mind seeking desperately for something that might keep her sane. Crying wasn't allowed - if she cried here she would be done for, unable to ever move forward again. Pity was forbidden, as was sadness - she couldn't grieve for herself because nothing vital had been lost. The wings were still attached and responded to command, her legs weren't worse off than when she'd arrived and she could still see, hear, taste and smell and feel, so a bit of marred skin and sore muscle shouldn't be anything to worry about. No, what she needed was... was... anger! Yes, how dare the foul creature touch her while she was not aware! How stupid of herself to succumb to oblivion like that too, it was a mistake she would never repeat again. A coward and a sick bastard had dared lay hand upon the sleeping valkyrie, but as soon as she was home and mended again she would... would train, and learn, and she would find the monster who had ruined the body her mother had died to save and...

Tears were falling again, but this time they felt hot and angry, and Erthë allowed them as she struggled to get to her feet. It was horribly painful, each movement causing blood to ooze out through the jagged tears until she resembled the Amaranthine in her red cloak of rage. Oh, if only she had been strong like that god-blessed woman, as noble and untouchable... No one would ever dare to defile her in this manner. It just went to show how insufficient she still was, didn't it.

Sucking in breath through trembling lips, the girl focused her mind inward; the blood ceased dripping as the water in the thick substance froze, turning ugly wounds into a masterpiece. Crimson roses blooming on snow, wasn't that lovely. Now, which way was south? She had to get home, had to see a healer, had to tell someone that a maniac was running rampant... Alune, Tembu, Eva...

Father. Where are you when I need you the most? Why are you never by my side?

Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking