She trembled where she stood, indecision written over her face like the words upon a splayed book, plain to see for anyone with functioning eyes. What was she going to do, what should she do? Listen to the thicket or her King, the black, twisted, gnarled mass of vines she had never payed attention to before or the man who had been like a surrogate father for her, more present in her life than the man that sired her? More importantly, what did she want, what could she live with, how much would her heart be stained by whatever action she decided upon today?

It was a relief to see Alune approach, such a comfort to feel the soothing heat of his presence as he came to stand beside her. Not looking away from the dark briars or the green-eyed manifestation of its heart, Erthë trained an ear on her teacher as he spoke, greedily clasping for every word like a drowning person reaching for straws - anything that might help her live through this.

But though the Seer spoke words that rang true, that resonated with what Erthë wanted to believe, the message somehow didn't bring her the peace of mind that she so greatly desired. On the contrary, though she nodded slowly that she heard and understood him, her insides seemed to scream in protest. Is a thing evil because it is dark? Is it unnecessary because it is old, is it redundant because something new is desired? Does the outside truly reflect what is within, and if not then what if the doe was indeed the true nature of the bramble whilst the storm, the cold, the rendering voice remained a mere reflection of personality?

But. Still. The Goddess had said it was nasty, she had said it needed to be cleared away. (But only because Tembovu said he needed a wall.) It was a creature of the Moon, so wasn't it up to the Moon to decide if it could be killed?

But does a mother have the right to take the life of her child just because she gave birth to it? Was it not murder all the same?

Alune had said it was the will of the Goddess. Tembovu said it was necessary. They both said to join in or leave...

Erthë did not want to leave.

The bow trembled in her grip as she raised it once more, the blinding white light flaring to life as she pulled the string taught. Swallowing down the jumbled tangle of uncertainty that ate at her resolve the girl aimed her bow at the thicket, paused, then turned it instead at the doe itself. If that truly was an illusion meant to trick them, then it was an insult and she would destroy it! For the Lady, for her friends, for... for the herd!

Erthë took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. The tremble in the bow ceased, steadied, and an icy calm lowered itself upon the valkyrie as she let the string begin to slip from her lips...

A creature of fire erupted from the chest of her King at that moment, a blazing echo of his own magnificent form. It charged the thicket and crashed headlong into the thorny brambles and the doe screamed, an unearthly sound that startled the filly into loosing focus. Again the magic bolt spluttered out and died, unneeded now as the thicket burst into flame, sending thick, black smoke spewing into the air.

Something painful stabbed at her chest as she watched it burn. The doe, pale and fair and innocent, spoke words that pierced the young mare like thorns and when it flickered out and disappeared, Erthë dropped her bow. With a hollow clatter it fell to the ground, but she did not bend to pick it up. Her eyes remained as ever fixed upon the bramble patch, and it was not just the foul smoke that caused them to redden and gleam with moisture.

"W-hy..." Her voice broke as salty tears spilled over the rim of swollen eyelids, rolling unhindered down cheeks already stained by oily ash. "Why didn't it fight back!?"

Turning to Alune she stared at him, the pain in her chest so fierce that she could hardly breathe let alone utter another word.

"It knew why we were here, it knew! S-So why didn't it fight, w-why... "

She couldn't go on. Choking on the smoke and her own tears the little filly squeezed her eyes shut and turned her back on the flaming pyre, so hot now that it felt as though the hairs on her coat would singe just by being near it. Without a sound she cried, voiceless sobs wracking her delicate frame in sorrow and regret over what had just been done.

It was a crime, a murder that had been committed today, no matter how prettily they phrased it. Was this the price for safety, the cost of living a peaceful life?

The well-guarded borders that had seemed to her a safe haven suddenly appeared like prison bars, and the idea that she had helped to build them revolted the young filly. Would she ever look on the Edge, on her friends, teachers and herd-mates the same way again?

She didn't know. Erthë just didn't know.

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Waiting for the rain I'm bracing for the thunder
A twig that wouldn't sway in the wind