She should of stayed closer to the oasis that day instead of prowling about the distant spaces of the Throat for useless reasons. Nothing had yet to please her and laziness came to power when it offered her a shade tree. Spread under the cool, airy shadows, it was calming, welcoming, nice enough that she could rest with eyes closed and not feel the need to drive something away.
Coyotes weren't that brave when it came to full grown horses, but after the cougars had attempted to maul her last Orangemoon and had taken someone dear as compensation when she wasn't achieved, there wasn't much trust in the creatures that dare share a room with her.
The commotion that carried on within the desert was never noted. It was a Greek tragedy taking part in a different theatre, one that she didn't have need to attend.
Well, up until her name was blaring across the burning abyss in such a way that she could believe death could be written to her name if she wasn't to arrive soon.
Scrambling with a panicked plea from her brain and every sense, the whites of her eyes ring pale shades as her hooves desperately try to ground her. Maybe she slams her skull against something, maybe she slipped and fell and that's why the scabs across the right side of her honey coloured coat are painting her with blood. Shock masks what must be a burning sensation that comes when you fell down as child and scraped the palms of your hands when you tried to catch yourself.
Whatever happened, it was one of the memories that she lost which could be added to the ever-growing list.
Ampere is there, the only one there when she arrives coated in orange dust and her own sweat, gasping for air as her body shakes under the stress of having galloped the entire way there. Sometime later, she'll fall prey to the stress and sleep for a seemingly endless amount of time through her aches and pains and only hope for the best, but that wasn't an option in the present. Adrenaline has made her forget it all just for a-
Dead child.
Tears would of gathered like waves in her seas on a normal occasion. She would of broken down and cried for centuries over the loss of something that hadn't even felt the beauty of living through all of it's hateful tricks. But no. She had to grow a pair of balls now and accept that people died, and regardless of seeing the living dead rotting before your very eyes, she'd have to accept corpses existed. Cadavers would place themselves before her very own presence when she'd lost something dear.
Today wasn't going to be the day that a child died before her, not if she had anything to do with it.
"I-I'm here." She sows together her breaking heart with a bent needle and bloody thread to keep together what she has while her voice cracks and shatters through every kind of pain to be named. Children aren't meant to die. Children are meant to live and to play, to make friends and live life with dreams like she'd once done. Wasn't this what she dreamed off?
Dead children wasn't on the list, but life's a bitch and a damn good one at it.
Tired knees collapse beside the frail figurine of a beautiful filly. It doesn't matter if the child has already passed or was born that way, white fire pours from her lips as if she is a dragon only spoken of in fairytales, draping itself over the youth in some desperate attempt to resurrect back life into the girl.

OOC: My heart.
It's dead.
The feels killed it.

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