She feels isolated- You always feel isolated, her brother remarks, drowsiness slurring even his thoughts. Go to sleep. But she cannot sleep, too deep is the night and too dark is her loneliness. The stone in her mane is not enough light; the sparks that fill the sky around her glimmer and mock, a vain joke of comfort, an empty respite. Even the moon cannot save her from herself, its pale face an empty blessing, its beams failing to cut through the tendrils of nightmare which swirl incessantly in her mind. Tandavi rests against the base of a tree, black eyes open and gleaming in the dark, and forces herself not to think of her fear.

Instead, she focuses on the scents and sounds. Gold two-tone ears listen for the tell-tale of movement, taking in cicadas, water, wind. She listens as frogs croak in the reeds, catches the quiet rustle of rodents. She hears a harsh cry of a bird seeking prey, though what it might be she cannot really answer; an owl, perhaps, like Kali... or more sinister, dark, carrion on the wing. She smells the harsh burning of sand, the sweet scent of clay; she wonders if the bird's prey was caught in the muck, unable to escape from its dark, greedy prison. Perhaps it had struggled, striven to break free. She imagines the sound of its scurrying paws, believes she can hear it screaming in fear, can taste desperation as it's torn from its home, its family and loved ones, laid empty and bare...

She shudders and gasps, sitting up, standing tall. Did I doze off? she wonders. When last did I sleep?

Some nights it works, but not tonight. Tonight every rustle is a seal on her grave, every scent a reminder of her time in the dark. She can feel her chest as it grows cold and tight, contracting against the weight of her breath. Long limbs stride away, aimless in the night, searching for solace as sand turns to mud and finding therein naught but more despair. She can feel the pulsing of each of her veins, the cloud of her head and the oppression of heat. She is gasping, near tears, though she is not aware.

She stumbles, falls forward, and is caught by a noise, awoken by something different and new. Hooves. Steps. Life. Desperate and greedy, her eyes search the scene, dancing with fervor till they land on his form.

She stills. He is not far away, a figure in the water with beautiful wings, and angel, she thinks- a herdmate, a friend. It does not matter if these things are true: she believes them, because she must, because she can no longer bear to be so alone.


"If I could fly maybe I'd know,"
@[Cera]