"And now I wish to God that The earth would turn cold
And my heart would forget it's made of glass"

Voices carried so far through these forests. Every sound multiplied and extended, bounced from tree to tree until a word had become twisted and contorted, folded in upon itself and returned from a completely different direction than it had been spoken. From the rustle of leaves to the chirp of birds, they all joined together and formed a chorus that rose and fell within the evergreen cathedral, a hymn celebrating life and nature and summertime...

To Erthë, it all sounded horribly cheerful, in a way that grated on her nerves. Overall she had a hard time with happiness and laughter these days. How could anyone be allowed to smile, why was the sun permitted to keep shining when her face had turned into a perpetual frown? Why didn't the sky open up and weep at her loss, like she did? Why was it, that even though the center of her existence had disappeared, the world kept turning like nothing had happened?

It wasn't fair.

Well then. If no one else were going to remember her mother, then at least Erthë would keep the raven mare alive in her memory. With fierce determination and tears of longing burning in the throat she tried to recall every word and phrase the mare had ever uttered, reminded herself of every lesson and advice the Blackbird had imparted upon her.

Like a ghost of winters past the filly stalked through the forests and fields, practicing the many arts her mother had tried to teach her; how to walk quietly, how to build stamina and strength, ways to blend into the environment and move unseen. Her pale coloration and many bulky limbs - wings, tail, horns poking out here and there - made it difficult to move about without being noticed, but Shadow had insisted that it didn't matter.

"It's about becoming part of the forest or the meadow, to move in pace with the wind and the rain and erase ones presence" she had told the complaining child, and Erthë tried, really tried to understand and do just that.

The Threshold was the perfect place to practice. No where else did so many horses pass back and forth, busy with their own thoughts and issues but also vigilant; the forest provided excellent shelter and lots of tricky footing - all in all, it was an excellent setup.

Where she now crept closer to a pair of mares in a clearing, the filly tried to emulate the inconspicuous nature and graceful movement of a deer. Her limping stride made it rather tricky, but even so the girl persisted and eased herself through the dense underbrush, intent on getting close enough to the ladies to listen without being herd, see without being seen...

With bated breath she watched the duo, the rapid, excited heartbeat like a private drum-roll in her ears.

Would they notice her, or had she succeeded?

"And all the pretty tulips would disappear
And never disturb me again"