Ashamin watched Hotaru over the licking flames, her pale pink figure lit orange by their leaping. Without tending, the fire would die, soon. Without tending, maybe so would Frostfall.

His left ear, large, dishlike, flickered to face the storm. Without looking, without being in it, he could still feel its ferocity. And yet here he was, standing inside, in a moment of calm, across from his leader.

More than anything, then, the Haruspex longed for a proper horn. Something long and majestic, to bring him to great heights and cross over the border the fire created between them. What would it be like to greet her like that, to start battles that way? The tips of two glorious weapons, crossing in reverent respect. But Ashamin had nothing but a knotted tree, a pitted gnarl obscuring his features. He would never get to experience that simple sensation: that distant touch, that clash.

When his lady went on to speak his ear turned back to focus on her. Lochan curled up tightly, his hind hooves pressing against his bonded's chest, as if preparing to sleep. But Ashamin knew it wasn't so--he knew his young companion would be listening, all the while. Hotaru spoke of herself as if she were a failure, someone weak and to be brought down.

But Ashamin knew better. And he hardly let her finish before he spoke to her, in earnest and heartfelt reply.

"Have you ever seen a bird fall, Hotaru?" It was a sincere question, one made tender by the slow blink that followed it, one made proverb by the inhalation that preceded its second part. "The only bird to ever fall, in this land or any other, was a great one, struck by lightning. And when it landed the world rose to greet it. The world created mountains, great towers of earth to be blanketed with its white feathers."

His long tail quivered behind him, twitching as if seeking out prey. But his mind was in utter focus--his heart, lacking all distraction. "That bird was remembered by the land. That bird is everywhere, in the distance. Frostfall is nothing but a weeping tribute, a yearly shedding of a great beast's children shedding its down. That bird had no name, no age, no gender, no race, but it was remembered."

Ashamin's eyes narrowed, his heartbeat picked up as he remembered first being told this story, himself. "No one saw that lightning strike, no one saw the descent. They only saw the landing. They saw something on the top of a mountain, and they called it this," he said, gesturing out to the winter storm then with his long, curved nose. "Damnit, Hotaru, I don't think anyone even ever saw that bird. I think they saw the snow fall and they cried with some emotion they didn't understand yet, because they knew something was changing. There had been the sun in the sky, higher than they ever imagined, and then one day it was shattered to pieces like feathers that they made into myth. But it was remembered, don't you see? And no one talks about how that bird was a sun without remembering that now it is snow. And no one remembers the lightning, they just remember the bird."

Ashamin felt his throat catch. He remembered the story from his father's lips. Who had the bird been for Veril, his mate? Ashamin had believed it. He had thought it was real. He had watched for the bird to fall every winter, had watched for new mountains to rise up, had looked after every rumble of thunder, only to find he was too late. He had looked his whole life; all he had ever found was his father's grief.

"Do you really think, that if some stray bolt sought you out, this herd wouldn't be there to catch you?" Ashamin asked then, turning back to match Hotaru's gaze with intensity that was maybe lost in the deep black but gained as the fire reflected in it, "Who cares if you are a mare? Do you really think someone wouldn't rise up to hold you steady in the cradle of a mountain?"

Lochan looked up then at his companion. Ashamin had started to shake, without realizing. The cold had turned into something else, like passion for her to understand. This was important to him. And maybe not because of Hotaru, maybe because of what it had meant to him as a colt. He had for so long thought his father would catch him, and in the wake of his death he had feared he would fall forever.

Now, he knew his herd would be there. No matter what happened, someone would be there. Surely Hotaru had to understand that. Surely, she couldn't be so alone that she feared she would fall from the sky and into nothing.