'Where am I?' her mind cries, aquatic eyes shifting around uneasily, ears dropped at a low angle in a frightened manner. 'I should have just followed Midas!' she whines once more to herself in the comfort of her head. Silently and ever so ungracefully, the growth-stunned mare stumbled around the flat meadow with short breaths and wide eyes. How she had gotten here was easy enough to explain: she was clearly lost. Without the aid of her painted savior, the brutt was once more just a mouse in maze full of fat, hungry cats.

It had only been a few days since her arrival here in the land of Helovia and already she has found herself parted from the comfort of her new home. The area was huge; full of rushing water and the most lush of grasses, and hidden very well by the thick vines and heavy branches created by who Kiara had called "the God of the Earth." Such a thing only confused the simple minded mare and caused her to struggle to attempt to imagine such a figure.

Night had fallen hours before, leaving the ragdoll in unfamiliar territory, just outside of what everyone else would call the Threshold. Despite the lack of stars hidden away behind cloudy skies, the harvest moon hung eerily in the air, providing rusty light for the brutt's travels. Her breath quivered in her throat, threats of tired tears becoming more and more real as she moved deeper toward the fork of the river. Soon enough, the water trickled on either side of the fae, the noise causing her to freeze in her tracks and hold her breath, ears propped forward and eyes shimmering with tears. She held this stance for a few moments, unable to breath or even blink before she could connect the sound with moving water.

"Oh-" she giggled, the air all coming out in a rushed and nervous giggle after she spoke. "I just.. I just need to calm down." the doll whispered, breaking the beginning of the sentence to draw in another breath to comfort her swirling head. The tears still danced across bottom eyelids, but refused to build up enough tension to break into small droplets. Once again, the ghostly figure -stained orange by the lingering moon- pushed her skinny legs toward the source of the water, her tongue now finding itself dry.

Thick blades of grass stirred around her legs as she sifted through the field, trying to find a trail to follow in order to retreat and find her way back home, but from here, everything looked exactly the same, and she wouldn't be able to tell west from east if she were asked. With no confidence, the doe decided to let nature take her along and decide where she would end up tonight. A clumsy trip over nothing but her own feet allowed the thin chain to rattle together in her antlers and the gem to bounce off of the base of her horn; a weak smile is able to touch the corners of her dark lips - perhaps her sire is still watching over her, somehow.

As she wanders along, the grass tickling at the rag doll's belly and thistles poking at her legs as the foliage becomes deeper, the air is filled with another sound; one that she is distantly familiar with only because of the two women she has known her whole life: Ark and their mother. The brutt stops again, unwilling to move another inch, scared to be spotted by this sky predator that she has instantly created in her mind. It is one full of feathers and a wiry lions' mane, beady yellow eyes and a beak full of teeth.

But still the sound comes closer and closer, the poor girl's heart now racing and her throat tight with fear, ears tipped back and ready to be knocked over by the make-believe creature of the night. Air rushed around her, the beat of the unknown wings brushing invisible fingers of wind against her hot cheeks as tears finally swelled over and beaded down her face. Her nostrils flared and rattled, each breath tattered and threatened with a choking noise. But that smell.. She knew that smell more than any other smell in the world.

"Sister."

Her tears felt chilly against her hot face; it was almost like the Grim Reaper himself reaching out to run his cold, dead fingers down her radiant cheeks, a warning that this was not their last meeting. That voice and the mixture of comfort and pure fear that it brought along with it, it was her voice. It was Arvakl. The child peered up from under wet eyelashes, visibly shaking under the dark shadow of her half sister. "A-Ark-k-k?" The name was broken by sniffles and tears and choking on her own tongue as she pleaded for the green eyes to be real, to actually be in front of her and alive.

And they were, they were even more alive than young Adelis; full of health and anger as they have always been. She shivered still, her body constantly moving and full of adrenaline and fear and pain. Unsure of what to do with herself, the doll smiled and laughed sheepishly, reaching out with a dark muzzle to touch her beautiful sister, the one she could never be as perfect as. She wanted to bury herself under those glamorous pink wings and fall asleep next to someone she knows, never having to wake up alone and cold and hungry ever again. But she knew that would not happen, she knew that her sister was cold and distant, just as Mother had been.

"Arvakl, I missed you!" the youngest finally cried, her throat bubbling with the build up of saliva that she had yet to swallow from her watering mouth. Her nerves, shocked from the multitude of different emotions, caused her stomach and head to be weak. Dizzy and nauseous, the fae moved forward in what looked to be a drunken stumble, hoping for the warmth of her sibling's body to be comforting and welcoming. She wished she would fall into her chest and be held there by an embracing neck.

"Don't touch me, filth." the winged sister warned, her underweight sibling stumbling over her own legs and finding herself just inches from falling face-first in the grass before she can catch herself. It was not unlike any of the names she had been called, and this one did not stab any deeper than the others, but something about the sheer disappointment that reflected off of Arvakl's young eyes pained the rag doll. She rose from the ground slowly and silently, both small ears tucked back against her bleached neck.

Wet eyes looked up just as the winged woman snapped her teeth, threatening the brutt without words; so many times she had shivered and jumped at the thought of the same noise, but this time, she could only close her eyes tight and hope that her sister would find some pity in her. The rusty moon stained her older sibling with the color of dried, crusty blood that she had seen a few times; smeared on her face from an earlier kill or flaking off of her sharp hooves. Another shudder rumbles through her body, though it is not from the old images of her blood-stained sister, but the dizzy wake of uneasiness still coursing through her veins.

'I can't believe I found you!' she wants to cry, even as the older girl reaches out and sniffs her with a cold glare permanently etched into her soft face. "You do not smell as you once did." Arvakl states, her voice lacking interest in conversation and rather ending with a statement. The brutt nods, her lackluster eyes watching the beautiful girl before her as she seemed to glow in the dark. "How are mother and father?" she finally questions, her eyes boring down on the ghostly girl.

"Speak!" This time, the doll shutters at the woman's voice, her jaw clenching tight before she realizes that there isn't a hoof coming for her face or shoulder. "I-I-I'm not sure! They were fighting when daddy sent me off!" She stammered, her legs pushing her backward the smallest inch just in case Arvakl wasn't happy with her quick response. "M-Mom-m-m was on the ground an-a-and dad was-" she pauses to sniffle, keeping back the hot tears that once more build up behind dark eyelids. "Dad was making me hurry! He put this on me." She finally finished, turning her small face to the left in order to allow her sister to see the iced blue gem dangling from her antlers.