Tilney's touch, the fair maiden's soothing voice; they both brought her cramping muscles down from high alert to a semblance of calm. A long, quivery sigh left her at their assurance that she truly was home, and as she began to trust her eyes again she because truly aware of the mist and the trees, the heady scent of damp moss and fallen leaves and that faint, salty scent of the ocean that always permeated the land. Erthë closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another; yes, this was home. No other place on this planet could possess this scent, and unless she had been lured into some very elaborate illusion - or died, there was always that possibility - then she truly was home.

But, she didn't think she was dead. For one, if she was then there should be no wounds. There would be no ache in overworked muscles, no need for healers or herbs or lanterns to light up the dark. There would be stars and moonlight and Shadow to embrace her and say welcome home, and with none of those crucial things in place this could only be the World's Edge.

Halfway to heaven, not quite there yet.

Besides, if there was a heaven then shouldn't these two be more in tune with one another? Even a half dead girl caught up in her own problems could feel the tension in the air, nearly palpable as she looked between the two healers. They were talking to her but not listening to what the other said, it seemed, because Tilney spoke of shelter even as the blue-painted mare complimented her on strength and intelligence and wanted to go fetch herbs. Confusion caused her brow to knit - what was going on, why weren't they looking at one another?

But even though she was puzzled by the tense atmosphere, Erthë did as she was told and took a deep breath, flexed her wings and slowly, gingerly pushed herself up on her feet. Again she took a deep breath, intentionally sucking in air so that her ribs would expand to full capacity, and winced when a jolt of discomfort sizzled through her mind.

"It feels... bruised" she said, and slowly let the breath escape her lungs again. One by one she tested the flexibility of her legs and the wings, careful not to overextend herself - a glance down filthy, blood-splattered body showed that while the wounds were indeed closed and scabbed over it wouldn't take much for them to open up again. "Like I was kicked around... but other than that, I'm just tired."

She smiled at the winged lady, a bit shy and awkward after being praised so highly over something she considered to be natural. What should she have done, kept lying about waiting for a miracle to happen? She might be the Seer's apprentice, but not even Erthë believed in such wondrous events. Everything had a price in this life, and very few things came easily. If she wanted help, she would have to go where there was help to find; it was as simple as that. So how come this mare was praising her as if she had done something heroic? It wasn't really, now was it?

But it felt rather good to receive praise. How long had it been since she last felt this kind of warm, bubbly feeling well up inside? That she couldn't immediately recall it was as good a suggestion as any, and probably explained why she was so bad at handling it too. All she could do was grin sheepishly and allow the slender white feline climb onto her shoulder as her emotions reeled; the unfamiliar sensation of having something on her back was as terrifying as the memories that surged up from hidden depths, and as if she could avoid them by refusing to acknowledge their presence the girl turned to Tilney when the white woman went off to find those herbs.

"I need to talk to Tembovu" she said, the smile melting from her lips as she tried to meet the antlered physicians green gaze without faltering. "I-I need to tell him... wha-what happened. Or Aysanne. Or Alune. Or... I need to tell them what ha-ha-happened. "

It was important, she should hurry, they ought to go now and not rest or make social visits because every second they stood there chatting the red monster was out there. Living. Breathing. Digging its sharp claws into flesh and spilling blood and staining the pure white snow with red, red, red, so much red...!

The trembling spread from her voice and throughout her body until the filly shook violently where she stood. As memories barely suppressed brought back the ghost of pain and terror her eyes became glazed, unseeing; she made a motion as if she wanted to bolt off into the darkness again, but managed only half a step before the weight of the cat on her back made her stop dead.

"I gotta tell, gotta... gotta let them know, need to warn... The red is coming, the red, the red, red Red RED..!"

Like a person plunging into frigid waters she gasped for breath, struggling as though drowning on the cold night air. Unable to breathe. Unable to stop the trembling.

Unable to escape the memories.

Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking