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

It hurt. Everything hurt. Her muscles, her head, even the tips of her horns and hair felt sore, fragile, as though a gentle breeze might make her shatter and fade into nothing. She knew she wouldn't, of course, and she knew that it wasn't really all of her that ached. It was only the left front leg, swollen and a bit crooked and impossible to stand on that leaved her in this sorry state. But oh, how it hurt! Every step was enough to make her want to cry, and it didn't particularly help that the remaining front leg was weak and unreliable either.

Battle scars. The term had such a romantic ring to it, but whoever thought it up couldn't have received any themselves. There was nothing romantic about having your leg pulverized, and there most certainly had been noting heroic about the slaughter of the Tigress. Erthë was firm in her belief that she was paying the price for her part in the carnage, and the only one she blamed for her current condition was herself.

That didn't mean she didn't want it fixed. Though moving was painful and she would have preferred to lie down somewhere quiet, the girl was not made for self-pity or nursing injured pride. Instead she set out in search for a healer, someone who could finally fix her. Badger and the nameless, rosy colored mare had patched her up as best they could in the heat of battle, but surely it had to be possible to do a better job now that there was peace and quiet and plenty of time.

It was the murmur of voices and the stray mention of "going to heal you" that drew her in beneath the low hanging branches of the tree. The filly stopped there, hovering awkwardly with the leafy vines flowing down her back and sides; this looked like a very private gathering. Tembovu was there, and a steely colored unicorn lady she had seen a few times on the battlefield, and on the ground behind her... lay two foals. Wet, covered in slime and blood and barely able to stand. Another mare was just stepping back from the horned warrior, chestnut hues surrounding a white flower mark... Ah, Erthë knew this person too.

But this was very private, wasn't it!? Though it was absolutely fascinating and the foals were really cute, the winter child didn't know if she was welcome or how she was to ask the healer for help when she so obviously was exhausted already.

"Uuh.. hi. Congratulations. Sorry for bothering you..." she murmured awkwardly, torn between a desire to inch closer and admire the newborn twins and an instinctive urge to give the family a wide berth.

Ah well. She'd already intruded - and her issue was making itself reminded with every heartbeat, the pain a pulsating, persistent throb that pushed her past courtesies and common decency.

"You really are a healer, yes?" she asked, turning to Evangeline with a shy but weary smile, expression tense with the strain of keeping it together. "Can I talk to you, when you have time?"

She could wait, but not forever. Erthë wasn't so selfish that she would drag help away from those who needed it, but not so kind as to completely disregard herself either. It was fine, she would live - probably - and remain sane (maybe) but... Yeah. As soon as possible, please?

But she didn't say it, just smiled shyly and felt very out of place.

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