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

Pain. It gnawed at her sanity, gnashing and clawing away whatever courage or determination that had brought the child into this battle. The effect of herbs and healing magic only served to numb it, keep it at bay, but didn't drive it off. The slightest of movements let her feel how bone fragments scraped against bone, muscle, tendons and ligaments within the leg, like rocks upon a beach ground against one another by the onslaught of waves. Erthë wanted to cry, but though her heart ached and her throat clenched tightly, no tears would rise to moisten the eyes.

For once, she would have welcomed them. It would have been a blessing to have her vision blurred by salty droplets, so that she would not have to witness the slaughter that took place before her. Was the slaying of a god supposed to be something this violent, this foul? Oh, she knew it had to be done and though she didn't know him, she knew the anger and disappointment that had colored the Earth God's voice. Something had gone wrong, betrayal and deceit had been the prelude to this requiem - and the result was death, destruction, blood spilled upon land that should have been untainted and holy.

She wanted to weep for the Tigress who fought so valiantly, even though her promises had been false, for all those who lay broken and bleeding, dying. She really, really wanted to cry.

But no tears would come.

And then, with a final surge of water, as steady and relentlessly methodical as Isopia herself, it ended. The Tiger Goddess lay dead upon the ground, and in the sudden silence the cries of the wounded sounded even louder. The scent of blood and smoke was thick in the air, fires smoldered in the grasses still, and the scent made her nauseous.

Coughing, choking on grief and memories the child reached for her father, longing to feel his comforting nose against her cheek again.

"Daddy!" she whimpered. Weakly. Softly. Sadly. "Daddy I want to go home. Can we please go home now?"

She wanted to hide away in that dark, mist-veiled forest, wanted to get away from concerned eyes and worried frowns, from the sadness in uncle Badger's face and the half remembered words of a mare she didn't know. A stallion she almost knew was crying over his daughter's body and the sound of his grief was like a knife in her own wounds, opening up scabs that had barely begun to heal. Could she do something for him, to ease his pain and loneliness?

But she only had words, and what good would that do when ones heart was bleeding out?

Slowly, painfully, the filly began to rise. She was battered and bruised, her body broken and the mind numb. Standing was almost more than she could manage, and how she would get back across the sea was more than she wanted to think about.

"Can someone fetch me my bow, please?" she asked, pleading the healers that had been crowding around her. In the tumult she had failed to thank the Earth God for saving her, but she found that she couldn't bring herself to care too much. Maybe she could find him later and say it then - maybe her gratitude didn't matter to someone so eternal.

Either way, there was nothing she could do now but go home, rest and recover - if it was even possible.

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