My thoughts are the cold kind,
I've got storm clouds brewing behind my eyes

She had been looking for work. An unusual pastime for a teenager, because everyone knew that teens of all species preferred to laze about, drag their feet and make a big deal of doing nothing. But, well, Erthë had to admit that she wasn't really average when compared to the rest of the young that littered about the Edge. For one, she was less than thrilled that birdsong finally had arrived in earnest. With the warm southern breeze came dry air, high blue skies and glaring sunlight, conditions that created excellent flight weather but left an ice-blooded girl suffering during the day. Heat did not become her, nor did the intense sunlight; her nose burned and flaked, her head felt heavy and no matter how often she bathed she had the unpleasant sensation of being sweaty.
For the second, she was unusually interested in the day to day management of the herd in general, and the machinations of ruling in particular. Watching and listening had made Erthë realize that there was more to a herd than gathering wayward souls in one place. Keeping that many wills and voices together and united in one general direction was, she discovered, not an easy feat. How Tembovu and Elsa managed this was a curious thing, as interesting a skill as Alune's mystic prayers and Evangeline's healing, as foreign to her as the glaziers ability to mold mist into glass.

Yet, she wished to learn. The ability to mold the hearts and souls of others, the skill to temper their anger and direct their energies to tasks in need of doing - she desired them all for herself, craved the kind of respect she saw in eyes and heard in voices and discovered within herself as she deferred to the rulers of the Edge. But in order to gain these skills, she would have to be in a position to watch and listen and mimic, and the easiest way to do this would no doubt be to run errands. Learn the structure of the daily life, the filly theorized, learn what is important and what can wait, learn of the souls that dwell within the homeland, and she might discover a clue to the ways of leading them.

She sought out Tembovu, and smiled as she found his towering form on the southern side of the cliffs. More often than not, she had discovered, their interactions took place near the sea, and if not there then along some other stretch of the border. If she was one to judge her friend was a good king, active and interested in who came and went, and while he was not exactly predictable Erthë thought it easy enough to find him when there was a need.

Spying him alone with little Mbwene, Erthë was nearly close enough to extend a greeting when the Elephant King called out himself, a summon meant for someone that wasn't her. Erthë hesitated, unsure whether she ought to withdraw or wait - but the person that appeared made her gape in surprise.

It was the black and white mare, that stocky stranger whom Erthë recognized but hadn't dared speak to before. The Sparklight, godslayer, hero of a battle that had burned itself into the pale child's memory so utterly that details remained vivid even after all this time.

Burning with curiosity the winged filly looked between Tembovu and this Roskuld person, loathe to approach but even less willing to leave. What was going on? What about it being Birdsong... and what was up with this stand-offish meeting between the two, as if they were on the brink of hugging or fighting or jumping off the cliff together?

Steeling herself, prepared to face harsh words and disapproval and worse, the girl inched closer. She wanted to hear what was being said, but she had no excuse for being there and nothing to hide behind. Eavesdropping was not an option - all she could hope for was to pick up snippets here and there until Tembovu tired of her presence or it grew apparent that it was not, in fact, a private conversation.

Sighing impatiently to herself Erthë wished for a way to become invisible. Life would be so much easier, so much more pleasant without all these roundabout considerations of feelings.

Erthë

And my heart will be blacker than your eyes
when I'm through with you