Under the moon's rounded face she picked her way through desolation, tail dragging limply between her hocks. Like the west wind, she whispered through the dusk, the moon reflected in her big blue eyes. What was this place, snow glowing dimly in the moonlight, moon unmoving from her place? Was this not her home, but its couple, doomed to shade for its nameless follies? A seed of worry sprouted in her heart as her gaze wandered through the darkness, combing each corner for some answer or reassurance or anything that could calm her worries. Winter had passed and spring would much too soon, but where had she been to be so oblivious of this curse? A frown disturbed her features, like raindrops on still water, nostrils quivering as they took in the cool mountain air. Eyes turned upward to a velvet sky, the lines of her face illuminated dimly - frigid mountain air caressed her exposed throat, sending a thrill of cold down her spin as she watched the pale disk, studied its unnatural luminosity, its ethereal radiance. A plume of breath purled from her nose, falling through the frigid air until it dissipated in a scattering of glitter illuminated by soft incandescence. She skirted the still lake as quietly as she could, dark toes barely slipping into the half-melted snow, barely leaving a trace as they moved her steadily forward. Half-memories of reapers and nymphs laughed through her mind, recalling blissful days, oblivious days; it was a time where, though darkness still sat in your heart and strangled your breath and threatened to drown you, there was hope and there was food and promises of new things. Huyana dare not look at herself now in that cruel mirror, fearing her hollowed cheeks and the ribs which peeked through her patchwork coat like inner demons.

Since the hour night consumed day, when corruption threatened to spill across the fragile walls of happiness she had built around her heart, the rainchild found herself escaping this bleak future which threatened to twin with her desolate past. The darkness came down so suddenly, like an iron curtain drawn around her happy places. She did not want to relive this pain, this fear, this emptiness, so she did the only thing she could do - run. It was so laughably easy how the roan had escaped the dark - it was as simple as following the falling sun, slipping past the borders into light. But where would she go? Would she pursue another entirely new life in a strange land, like she had so many times before? Could she have risked breaking her heart again - could she afford to do that?

The answer was painfully clear.

She spent the following seasons watching Helovia's borders from beneath a winter sun. She was holed up inside her head, trying to make sense of her ideals like a young child, shunning the world whilst reevaluating herself. Loneliness was something she had never felt before, but far removed from the sea and the pitter-patter of rain, Huyana felt despair and much more isolated than she had ever felt.

So, when the moon peeked shyly over the horizon, the roan returned home.

With all her musings and ponderings, Huyana did not notice how warm it had suddenly become or how much heavier each breath was. It was when she noticed a flash of familiar blue, her mind stopped turning like the tumultuous ocean it was. It was him, he who could rob life with barely a glance, the lord of death, master of life. A heaviness settled over her heart, crawled up her throat like some evil, scheming thing. Though he poisoned and stole, murdered and eradicated without a second thought, Huyana felt no resentment, no hate. She wondered at this - a younger her would have loathed him and all he stood for, but she only felt emptiness.

She finally knew why.

Death was not the problem, nor was the business of taking lives - it was their duty, their job, their livelihood, the only thing they knew. If you were never taught peace, how would you do anything other than fight?

An ear flicked back almost timidly in contemplation, and she stood still, barely daring to breathe. She marveled at him, how vulnerable he seemed, how mortal, healing his wounds. Huyana hesitated, wondering if she should interrupt him or leave him be - would he hate her for being so weak and abandoning them, when the best thing she could do was stay and help?

Would he care?

She doubted it.

"Deimos," she whispered, sounding braver than she felt. Her voice was drained of any innate joy she may have harbored - it sounded old, weathered, like stone after a millennium of erosion. Why didn't she stand and defend her own?

Coward, traitor, betrayer - you can't even root for your own ideals.



Ashamed.