The water has a way of carrying the sound of everything that goes on in the vicinity. It conveys the rumble and churn of the earth in a hushed melody, a murmur turned lullaby to the rhythm of a beating heart. In the cool, shimmering darkness exist another world, one where distant footsteps become war drums and thunder, where a snapping, crumbling tree is no more distinct than the rush of fish darting back and forth in the gloom.

She worries not, because the child is accustomed to the sounds of the forest. She know the deer and the elk, the moose and the fox and the hares, she has listened to bears rummaging in the dead of night and trembled to the hunting songs of the wolves. With her mother so close by she feels safe, sheltered in this submerged world of dreams, of near sleep, the trance-like state of relaxation not so easily broken.

Not until sudden, violent ripples and waves lap against her milky chassis and something plunges down much too close to her. With a start the child opened her eyes and saw that a black mountain had appeared in the pond, glistening with moisture and sweat and twitching muscle. A fraction of a second later something big and strong rises up from beneath her and hoists her into the air, squealing and flailing as water rushes away, expose her to the warm summer air and make droplets nearly freeze against her icy cold skin.

The world is a jumble of color, green and red and black and a flash of sunset scarlet.. then the flapping wings made her slide off the side of the big bad brute and she splashed down into the water again. Water rushed into her mouth, nose, into ears and eyes. Half blind and choking Erthë thrashed and flapped, panic already setting in because she can't breathe, can't see or hear, fear is wrapping around her like thorny vines...

A dainty clove scrape against the bottom of the pool, stirring up mud and leaves and all the hidden things that lurk at the bottom of forest ponds. Somehow managing to right herself the girl pushed herself up to the surface, coughing and hulking with water rushing, no longer sweet or soothing or safe, from mouth and from nose and from the heavy, heavy wings.

"Are you crazy!?" she half screamed, half sobbed as soon as she was able to say anything at all. "Why did you do that, are you trying to kill me!?"

She glared up at the fool of a stallion, the mountain, made of flesh and muscle but possessing nothing even remotely close to a brain, it seemed. He towered over her, twice as tall at least, but she was so angry and still reeling from the shock and fright that she didn't care that he really could pick her up and throw her wherever.

In the back of her mind something registered a familiarity about the bulky figure and the gruff growl of a voice, but she didn't really connect it to anything yet. Still very much considering to call for help, for her mother, for anyone to save her, this wasn't exactly the time for recollections of things she didn't want to think about anyway.