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

The presence of another intrude upon her solitude, but the child is neither angered nor startled. She is safe here in these moonlit lands, safer than she had ever been anywhere else. Should she raise her voice and scream the herd would be there in a heartbeat; her beloved father, strong Tembovu and the mysterious Mauja, silly Anzanie and the bedraggled yet undeniably strong Elsa - all would come to her aid, of this she held no doubt.

But there was no need to call out tonight. By the sound of lightly tripping feet she could tell that the creature that drew up towards her was small and lithe, shorter and thinner than even herself - at least for now. Upon hearing a voice the filly turned and smiled brightly at the young colt, delighted to see him. Erthë had longed for a chance to play with the newborn twins and it didn't matter much to her that there was only one here right now.

"Hello Libertad!" she cooed, turning with some difficulty on the spot so she faced him rather than the restless ocean. Moonlight gleamed like a halo upon the wind-tossed curls, lending an ethereal glow to the slender girl.

"I live here" she said, "just like you and your sister and your mom. I was there when you were born - not for long, but I was there."

Shifting the pearly swan wings she eyed the little colt curiously. He was the youngest foal she had ever met and it was weird to actually be able to look down upon someone for once. Though not exactly an expert in kids, she suspected that he would grow quickly, stretch tall and lean and be able to return the favor before long. And he was pretty, all silver and white with cute little dapples and that rosy nub of a horn that would grow to be long and sharp with time - it was enough to make her want to squeal and hug him tightly!

Restraining these inexplicable urges, her gaze fell to the ground about his feet. Roses bloomed around the tiny hooves, magicking themselves into existence before her very eyes. They were such a brilliant, vibrant red that not even the monochrome night could rob them of their color.

Erthë drew for breath, delighted at the sight; "Oooh those are pretty! Are you doing that?" But there was a smell about them that made her feel a bit uneasy. A repugnant, salty scent that made her soft, pink nostrils wrinkle and pinch. Reminding her far too much of one that had clung to her as she lay on a ground of sun baked sand, crying next to a black mare that lay much too still...

"What... are they made of? The flowers..." she asked.

Though, albeit unwilling to admit it to herself, the moon-bright dove thought she already knew.

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