A thin layer of sweat covers the earth-toned figure. Offering a light sheen that shimmers in the clear skies. A speck, a feather that drifts beyond the earth’s mortal clutches. Where the living lay to rest, and the dead succumb to dirt and gravel.
 
There is a god that cannot be beaten that resides in the once-child’s mind. There are magics and beings she cannot fathom, aspirations that float precariously over her head – but she is too mute, too young and stupid to know how or when to sink her hooves into them. They have all ceased to exist in the caverns of that mind. The wind and the sun inhabit her cranium. From outside and within the steady strum of wings and recoiling muscles, pushes restlessly against her limits. Somehow there is peace in the test of wills. A break to thought, a reawakening of sensation.
 
The mare inhales, aware of the crisp air by how it slightly burns the entrance to her throat. She adjusts to beat against the currents, or to merely be pulled and tossed by their presence. Lost to trying, lost to worrying – left with her soul to carry on daringly over the lands. A waning light, obscured by what the world has taught her. And hoping, just hoping that she can spend one more day without having to be consumed by its weight.
 
It adds to the urgency that takes her strides. The sharp shapes of her wings pull her body further and within the Riptide Isles; an element of danger rides on the edges of her heels. Rogue winds hide between the haphazard shapes of the islands. Torn and cut out by the test of time.
 
With a heavy inhale she dives; the mare’s wings snap in, sooty legs are folded as much as they can – before punching them out and skimming the ocean table top. Swerving, back and forth - fighting, against opposite pulls; setting her sights on elevating her vulnerable position. Even as her head swims with unbalance, dizzy and light from the abrupt changes in speed.
 
Ru elevates while weaving in between the pieces of island, turning sharp and close to their sides. At times, she manages to push off their jagged edges from her hooves with childish giggles. Noises she carelessly offers up to the wind, as if to mock or simply jest with the element as old friends might. Give me more, she hums into the quiet expanse ahead of her. Spring has fueled Ru’s veins with a toxic vigor, and it grows and grows as she wages war with the gales.
 
A war she can’t hope to win. A war, she can only learn and struggle to understand before it takes her, casts her out for her mortal weaknesses.
 
The girl, the woman, the spirit of mind and body fancies she might be spared the earth’s dull gravity. And be cast out into the reaches beyond their lonely planet, become stardust – travel into the unknown lost and wanting.
 
As was and will ever be.
 
Fresh and cruel wind sends the girl darting to the right. She braces for a cliff side that she pummels into against her sides – avoiding her outstretched wing. Embraces the freefall that comes after that. Followed by rock and sprouting foliage. She breathes hard, she manages small adjustments with her body and wings –before breaking free and hissing out into the air in one long gasp. The ocean is an outstretched limb away. The mare has managed not to crash into its depths. And keeps a steady flight just above the waters.
 
That’s it. She coached herself.
 
Glaring eyes swept about. Taking in the surrounding labyrinth of harsh, daunting rock formations. And the looming waters sparkling below.