There was something special about Her presence in the forest. It was simultaneously subtle and glaringly obvious, like a blaring silver trumpet attempting to whisper, fireworks at noon or maybe an eclipse. Ultimately She always drew their attention, and without question they gathered to see what was about to take place.

She picked her way through the mist with careful steps, quiet and inconspicuous as her pale coat blended with the swirling vapor. By the stillness of the night and the subdued, almost solemn atmosphere Erthë guessed that this wasn't the usual spectacular performance. Unlike the previous times she had been allowed to lay eyes upon her beloved Lady this felt private, intimate, a table set for two. In her head the yearling filly knew she shouldn't be there. The summons hadn't been for her, nor did flowers of moonlight and frost bloom to light her path. Yet she couldn't bring herself to stay away. The urge to gaze upon the Goddess' perfect face was like a fire in her blood, a poison, a sweet drug that kept begging for more. Jubilation, awe and delight wrestled with less appealing emotions, her stomach was a seething mass of jealousy and longing - and when she felt the mists tightening around herself in gentle but firm denial her soft pink lips pressed together into a thin line of envy.

Why would Mauja be called? Why him, out of all the loyal, faithful followers that swelled the ranks of the herd? Why did the Lady gaze at him like that, so softly as though they were close in ways Erthë couldn't understand. It was unfair, uncouth, annoying, especially because she knew none of those thoughts did herself justice. Though they weren't close or the best of friends, it wasn't like she had anything against Mauja. He was a bit grouchy and overly emotional but he could be really nice too, when he wanted. So why, why was it that when she gazed upon the two of them alone in the moonlit, frost-laced clearing her heart ached with jealousy? Not of the exquisite goddess in her flawless, peerless beauty, but rather of the gleaming stallion for catching Her attention like this, for earning such sincere looks, such softly spoken words.

Erthë swallowed hard and found that a lump had lodged itself into her throat. With dry mouth and burning eyes she tore her gaze away from the scene and looked around, startled to find she wasn't alone. She had missed the arrival of Dacianna and Tembovu, but now she was relieved to see them - it gave her something else to think about, other than the Goddess and her Frozen Light and what sweet words they might be sharing.

Quietly, unable to speak so much as a greeting, the girl limped over to the king and made to slip in by his side, to press her cold skin against his steady, comforting bulk like she had done before as a mere spindle-legged filly. Much had changed since those brief encounters in the Threshold - she was taller now and rounder, a butterfly in the midst of metamorphosis, transforming from gangling foal to young mare - but the inexplicable trust she felt for the towering stallion was still the same.

Erthë hoped he wouldn't ask any questions as she tried to hide her face away against the broad shoulder. She didn't think herself able to express in words what she felt as she looked at Mauja and the Moon, and even if she could it would likely be made into something ugly, twisted and foul, like black tar oozing forth and obscuring the real reason for her jealousy.

Once before had she witnessed a mortal being summoned by a God, drawn aside and placed above others, blessed with favors and eternal grace. Now it was happening again, and all she could think about was how she wished it was her standing there before the Goddess, draped in frost and moonlight and shielded by mist, the sole focus of Her attention.

What did you even have to do to win such a place in the heart of an immortal? Whatever it was, Erthë swore she would find it. She would do anything, everything to earn the favor of the Lady... and one day it would be her turn.

One day. Please, lord of Time, won't you make my days go faster?

DANCING IN DARKNESS
to the sound of a drum