The heat, it was turning into a nightmare. Everywhere her globes went, all she saw was death, withering foliage and drought. The savage had fled to the Frostbreath Steppe, having taken permanent residence there since that flaming sun god had torched her home. Here, the slush splashed up at her underbelly every time she took a step, the ground was treacherous and slippery, but her surefooted gait kept her upright. Severe burns on her hide were healing up nicely, as was the cracked rib that she had gained in the heat of the moment, much due to the skilled healing performed in the moments after her misfortunate actions. A harsh snort emitted the barbarian, every now and then nibbling at the bitter tundra, but not finding much of a hunger within her. Her small lobes were plastered down her neck, anger rumbling under the surface, wanting some sort of outlet. Auburn eyes held an expression of disgust mixed in with despair, and with a rasping scream she jolted forward into a gallop, a taste of blood in her mouth.

She didn’t stop until the sweat was dripping from her nape, slowing to a trot and then to a walk. Tossing her head, the impressive ivory antlers upon her head caught the last rays of the setting sun, reflecting it briefly. Korra had become a creature of the night, even more so than she had before, keeping to herself as always. Her beloved forest was charred and burning hot, she missed it, but not in a sentimental way. There was absolutely nothing sentimental about her. The primal mare halted and dropped to the ground, taking a roll in the slush to cool down, shaking her hide like a dog out of water when she returned to her feet. It provided little relief, but her ears still flicked in a displeased way. If possible, she was even rougher to look at than usual, thanks to the freshly healed scars on her dull coat. In some places the hair was only just growing back, unveiling patches of her black skin underneath. She cared not, however; she wasn’t set in this world to look pretty.

In a way, she blamed herself for not being able to stop the wreckage of The Edge. However, she was also deeply ashamed that she had actually charged the god on her own. Korra had paid for her stupidity with blood, but the worst thing was the look in the other herdmembers’ eyes. It had chilled her more than this pitiful slush ever would, but not in a soothing way; the cold, the carelessness, the blame they had possessed had grown all the way to her heart, and as always it had retreated, this time behind reinforced armor. She had not spoken to any of them since, she hadn’t wanted to, and the savage had returned to her previous hermit-ways. There she was, ready to sacrifice her life in order to chase a threat out of their home, and all she had received was crude words from the ones that were supposed to be her brothers. ‘Idiot’. ‘Fool’. ‘Stupid’. Korra wouldn’t ever confess to words hurting her, but it felt like something inside was broken. Maybe she would come ‘round, eventually, when the hate receded and the old barbarian started showing her face. Until then, she found comfort in her old ways of solitude, rage and bloodshed. That was something she knew how to handle.

[OOC: Ugh. This kind of really sucks, but i just wanted to post her somewhere :3 Open to anyone]