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There is something to be said for loss. In the midst of a world tumbling, chaotic, out of control, loss centers and defines us, molding the spirit into something strong and wise. Loss gives us the power to endure, to withstand, that we might defend the weaker from the agonizing burns of a heartless world. What would be without these years of empty wandering, I wonder: an arrogant child with the humor of a knave, still convinced that the world is mine to command? A leader without wisdom, a follower without peace? The loss I have endured has made me into the creature I am today, and in that way it has done me a kindness.
Or so I have told myself, again and again. I repeated the words as I rose from the ashes of my burning home, and again as I fled the wrath of six rabid wolves. When kingdoms fell and I stood and watched, helpless to help a people I knew not, I reminded myself that loss would strengthen those who remained, would mold and form them into something stern and stronger. And each time I entered a new land, the scent of my kind thick on my tongue and filling my mind with hopeful elation, I quietly repeated my mantra of steel – I am strong because of my loss. If I do not find my family here, I will endure, because I must be strong in my people's name.
I never did find my family, and over the ache of burning time I began to think I never would. It was with this absence of hope and acceptance of fate that I came to Helovia in its winter of darkness, and there at last found a place as broken as I. Night had settled abruptly as I reached the dense forest, eerie and moonless darkness punctuated only by the strange glow of a ill-spaced trees. The snow which had plagued my journey thus far was cast out by the dense foliage- a welcome change. I shook the ambient wet off myself and stepped forward through the everlasting pines, hooves crunching on fallen needles. It was an hour before I escaped the sun and snow completely, and in that time I came to realize that something about this land was very... odd. The trees that stretched into starless skies released tantalizing aromas that reminded me of home, earthen and wild and so very seductive, and yet there was something disquieting in their guardian's glare.
Did I mention that they were glowing? Because there was that, too.
In the murky light I could scarcely make out my own dark legs; my wings rested still, folded at my side, for I dared not attempt flight in this dense blanket of snowy night. Besides, I had wandered far before this, and the wear I felt in my tired bones no doubt showed in the low hang of my crown, the slight tremor of my limbs. I was welcome prey to any wayward predator; better to reserve my wings for a hasty escape, than to waste them gliding over this earthen threshold. Beneath the muffling scent of snow and earth I could pick up strains of something else, something familiar and alarming with a faint kiss of comfort. This was not an ill-traveled land, hoof-prints in the earth and the stray feather here or there proved as much. I had come to a place where others lived, perhaps even others of... no. Not my kind. I would never find others of my kind, only strangers in a strange land, waiting to test a warrior's mettle, useless creatures untouched by loss who fail to understand the vast turmoil of this world. I did not care; any face would be a welcome respite from this eerie darkness, and so, weary and dispassionate, I carried on through the endless night, waiting for the denizens to emerge from their protective wood and wondering if this would be a day of fight, flight, or respite.
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