Wait, what?

He was going away? Leaving? Why? All she wanted was a few reassuring words from him! A token, a gesture to show whether he was serious, whether he really meant what he was saying or really just teased and taunted and would laugh at her if she accepted the suggestion. Was that all it took to turn him away? A little hesitancy, a justified thought to what might happen with their friendship if they... if... well, if they did get a bit more... intimate. It might not be a big deal to Volterra but for her it was huge. Not only because it would be the first time anyone ever touched her that way, but because of the values her parents had displayed of love and camaraderie and monogamy.

No, Erthë was not so ignorant as to misread the situation but neither was she experienced enough to understand that for some, sex was just sex with no deeper implications. Nor did she have any understanding of her own reactions, physical or mental. It was all a big jumble of confused thoughts and impulses that tore her this way and that, and it got even worse when he pulled away and left her standing there alone with cold air rushing in to nibble at the raw, tender skin that had become accustomed to his warmth.

But the pale little mare was not one to simply stand there meekly and swallow what she felt like a rejection. In the midst of that tight knot of disbelief, a spark of indignation flared up and kindled a sudden onrush of anger.

How dared he just walk away!?

Within a heartbeat of his retreat, Erthë snapped her nose out at his hide again, but this time her ivory teeth were hard and punishing, outrage blazing through her eyes as she glared at him.

"Don't you dare take another step!" she said. "That's how serious you are about this? Is this some kind of game to you? You just waltz in, say whatever you want and jump right out again at the slightest hint that you might have to own up to your own words?"

She trembled again, quivered with the tension that rippled through her body but the hesitant anxiety had been replaced by anger, the only emotion Erthë had to fall back on when nothing else made sense.

"What am I to you, Volterra? Friend? Sister? Just a face in the crowd? How can you just walk away after turning everything upside down? Yes, it's a damned difficult position because now I don't know what you want or what I want, or what any of it even means!"

Somehow she knew she didn't make much sense, but it couldn't be helped. All the tension of the past weeks paired with the frightening and tantalizing new reactions of her body to his proposition had finally boiled over. To her infinite dismay the girl felt tears well up in her eyes and she tried to blink them away - Gods, why did she always cry like this, it was so humiliating! - but it was no use.

Again she tried to bite the big stallion, shoving her slender body against his massive bulk as if everything was his fault, as if by hurting him she would somehow be able to make sense of the whole mess inside of her.

It was completely unfair, of course. Volterra was not the cause, merely the catalyst of this outburst. But it felt good, oh, so good to be able to blame someone whom she knew could take it. Her bites, should they even land upon his already scarred hide, would hardly be damaging enough to bother him much. The difference in size, strength and experience was far too great, her attacks too mindless...

And, after all, she did not really wish to hurt him. Just... let him know how she felt about being left behind. That's all. It was he who started it, and now he better show some resolve and finish it too. He had kindled a fire, and lest it burn the world to the ground around her he'd better put it out again.

Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking