Half a year after her birth, she returns to the place of her conception. She has wandered through snow and ice and mist, under trees and over hill; all, she thinks, to find her way to this place. It blooms ahead of her in the darkened sky, a blaze of orange on a vast empty horizon, the promise of everything she is and more. The scene is perfect: a glow of fire lights the night, topped by the fragile crescent of the waning moon. Silver clashes with the passionate red, shadows dancing in a hazy atmosphere. The hole in the center of the world casts a halo upon the earth, itself a sun in the spring without day, gaping chasm filled with warmth and the promise of something dazzlingly deadly should she dare to step close. It is heaven, earth, the world she was made for and a land of glorious promise. In the crimson light of the endless flame, she laughed.

It had been worth the struggle, she knew without a thought. Natraj had had an easier time of it than she, his miniscule form darting easily through clingy shrubs and needy thorns. Her brother found the safest route, so nimble and quick; and even as she struggled after him she felt admiration and adoration, twinged with a speck of incandescent jealousy. The grass was taller than she could ever hope to be, taller than the sky and the sun and the moon, taller perhaps than even her mother. She followed the paths on gold-dipped legs, a copper ghost in the sea of brown; yet the gnarled plants were not ready to relinquish their new playmate so easily. Brambles caught in the white of her mane; thorns tore harshly into tender flesh; the earth held fast yet she pushed harder, child's muscles put to test and youthful determination pressed to limits. The war ended unexpectedly. With a stumble and a gasp came the abrupt gift of freedom, the filly sent sprawling by the force of her own actions, legs tangling and flying from beneath her as she hit the ground with a quiet oof. A sting of pain shot through her left foreleg, the echo of unfortunate impact with something sharp. She could hear Natraj laughing, and shot him a blazing look before pulling herself upright, shaking off the dust and turning away from her brother to survey the promised land.

Yes. Very worth it.

She is done watching, and now she wants to experience, to step closer and feel the heat sear her face. One step, two, three- ow. She looks down in surprise, blinking as blood trickles down her leg, falling drip drip drip onto something that sparkles in the ground. She has hurt herself before, but this is something new- never has blood left her body like this. It does not scare her; she has seen much blood, watching Natraj feed. She has even tasted it, nostrils curling in pungent dislike as the coppery taste spread across her tongue, at once repugnant and foreign and wrong. But this, this was different. That blood had always come from something else, someone else; this is hers, and it hurts, and she does not know what to make of it. She glares down at the wound in vile distaste, onyx eyes reflecting the distant flame, bright and furious at this betrayal of her body. It makes the silent filly want to yell, but yell what? There must be a word to sum up her feelings, the bright and cruel anger that prickles behind her eyes, the sting she does not know to be tears, the inability to stop the pain. Natraj whimpers helpfully, wrapping around her unwounded fore as she stands stock-still, black eyes staring at the crimson horizon. She searches her mind, and comes up at last with something she has heard Madyrn and Maskan say, a word she does not quite understand, but feels appropriate.

In a voice too deep and melodic and clean for her youthful frame, she screams into the distant fire.

"FUCK!"

[ ooc || sorry it's late xP @[Sia] and @[Amaris] first, please ]