She had fled. Into the stalks of bamboo and away from the young unicorn and his kitsune, away from all other thoughts of sparring and fighting. Each stride caused the wound on her thigh to stretch and bleed more, staining her feathers as her wing brushed against it as well as the dark patch of her coat. Hemlock flew above her, remaining close - his worry for her mingling with his own feelings of guilt. That had been the first time he had actually attacked someone and although it was done in defense of Alysanne (and although he would do it a thousand times again for her) it bothered him.

She ran and it wasn’t until she shuddered to a stop, because she didn’t want to make the wound on her leg any worse, that she realized she should have at least healed him before leaving.

Her breaths ragged and heaving, Alysanne looked around but this labyrinth of green stalks looked the same on all sides - she didn’t remember which way she had come from or how far she had gone. The small owl, coming to perch on her withers, knew better than to point out ‘who cares’ though that summed up his sentiments on the matter - he preferred for Alysanne to not go back and find the blue boy.

She had lost sight of him, and she shied away from wandering aimlessly around this strange forest, so she stayed where she was and berated herself instead. It was stupid to get involved in another spar when she knew what would happen. There had been that hope that fighting a stranger would’ve made it easier but of course it didn’t - Alysanne cared for strangers almost as strongly as she did those she knew. And she had not been able to shake the visions of Artorius, her son, that plagued her in the presence of that young stallion. It was doomed, doomed from the start, and the weight of her stupidity settled heavily on her shoulders as she continued to stand there - her left wing held gingerly away from the bleeding wound and her head held low.

She should wash the gash on her thigh, even if she wasn’t going to heal it. Wash the stain of red out of her soft white feathers.

But she couldn’t move just yet, her legs trembling and her mind wild with distress. It was just a spar but it didn’t feel that way to her, she had drawn blood - she had hurt someone else - all for the sake of “experience”.

Not for the first time, Aly worried she didn’t have what it took to finish her quest with the Moon Goddess. But at least if she didn’t heal her own wound, and avoided the Edge for a while so they wouldn’t make her, she was one step closer. For the time anyway, the deep pain of the gash suited her mood. And she closed her eyes - letting her weakness wash over her for just a moment longer.

Hemlock heard the movement first, quietly taking off from his spot on Alysanne’s withers to circle above the tall green bamboo and see if he could discover who it was. He might be able to scare off Erebos if it was him, hopefully. But it was a flash of light blue, not dark, that he saw through the plants and his warning hoot came to Aly just as soon as she heard the rustling herself. Immediately, her head shot up and her eyes opened - catching the blurted question and she was even attempting to fabricate a smile - pretending as though she wasn’t freely bleeding, as though she could not hear the soft droplets of blood as they hit the ground.

But this mare noticed, even if Alysanne was happy to pretend otherwise, and whatever she was going to ask died as another question. A completely reasonable one, but ‘are you alright’ was far too complicated for Alysanne to answer.

With that false, strained smile, her green eyes focused on this stranger. “Oh… yes, I’m…” But as she folded her wing to fully hide the bleeding wound, she had to bite back a scream because that really hurt. Her eyes shut again and her ears pinned back in response, her heavy breathing only becoming worse as she tried to fight through while folding her wing. It took a couple moments for her to regain composure, or enough of it to complete the sentence. “Fine.” The word came out through clenched teeth, short and clipped because she knew it was obvious how not fine she was but she needed to say it all the same. She worried that this mare was a healer, worried about any outside attempts to offer assistance.

Already Alysanne knew she’d have to avoid the Edge, avoid her sister and any other friends, who would insist that she heal it.

Hemlock continued to circle above, feeling restless with his worry for Alysanne and uncertainty about this new mare. Was she a friend? Or would she take advantage of an already injured mare? Alysanne didn’t have much by way of items to steal - a few amulets and her glass headband - but for some it might be enough...

Slowly her eyes opened and her ears unpinned, adopting a curious expression and trying to find that ghost of a smile again. “What is it you’re looking for?” The painted mare’s voice was quiet as she asked, wondering just how successful her attempts to change the subject would be, returning it to whatever this mare was going to ask originally.

No reaction was given by the stranger and Alysanne would be forever thankful as the conversation skipped over the topic she dreaded. It was an odd thing, to wish for someone without compassion, but someone who pointed out her blatant fib or fussed over her injury was exactly the opposite of what the painted mare needed right now. Her resolve to keep this injury and to not heal it herself was paper thin already, bombarded as she was by the distress of Hemlock through their bond. He understood her quest and the reasons behind it but understanding and idly accepting this bleeding wound were two very different things.

The sweet and gentle voice of the mare as she wondered out loud whether they would be able to help her find her way out of here brought a stronger, more genuine smile to Alysanne’s face as she tried to shove the pain into the furthest corner of her mind. “Oh yes, Hemlock - that’s my companion - can definitely find out where to go. Then we can see you safely out.” She made the offer graciously, finding it a little easier to smile now. Hemlock scoffed at her through their bond, not exactly thrilled about this suggestion, but Alysanne quietly assured him that they would head home as soon as they helped this mare. In the meantime,  helping out this dawn-coloured mare was a welcome distraction. Surely the pain would get easier from here on out, right? As it started to heal?

The small owl muttered angrily though their bond but consented to taking his circling to new altitudes - discovering that the pair of winged mares weren’t very far from the northwest border of this land at all.

“He’ll lead us, if you want.” Taking a deep breath, Alysanne began to walk - very very slowly at first. She managed to keep her reaction to the tugging and moving of her thigh to a sharp intake of air whenever it came to shift it. The overall result was a rather odd looking gait - where three legs moved slowly and one moved much slower than the rest. But it felt good to move. Well, no, that was a lie. It felt horrible to move but the movement was piling on the distractions.

Maybe if she didn’t think about it, the shine of water in her eyes would not betray her by turning into actual tears.

“Was there somewhere in particular you were heading?” Although there was still strain in her voice, her tone was light and friendly as her green eyes shifted back to her company - eager to pretend this was just another chance accounter.

“Of course, it will be no trouble at all.”  An obvious lie but Alysanne truly didn’t mind. She was going to need to find her way out of here too, anyway, and she couldn’t in good conscience abandon someone in need. The next words were a surprise, coming from the other mare - the words quietly spoken as though she was nervous. Nervous about Alysanne? Was she a frightening image right now? Mentally exhausted, trying to put on a good face, and bleeding freely from a wound hidden beneath her wing? “Thank you.” It was all Alysanne could think to say, though it didn’t feel like a compliment. She didn’t consider the gash on her leg, the one her feathers were sopping up most of the blood from, something to be proud of. It was a sign of her weakness, her foolishness. How could she possibly think to get into a spar again? After her one with Tembovu had been so disastrous?

But she did not wish to invite more conversation on the matter, afraid that she might crumble in front of this stranger and take too long to rise again.

Thankfully, the pretty striped mare seemed just as eager to latch onto a different topic of conversation - her voice turning light at Aly’s question about where they were heading. Of course, the herd this mare was getting back to happened to be the one that Aly had complicated feelings about - but she’d rather internally grumble about the Falls than focus on her injury. So she smiled, a strained but warm smile, when she replied. “I’m not from there but I have been before - and luckily, know where it is.” How she wished she didn’t, though. Or, at the very least, she wished that she knew where it was for happier reasons. But she struggled against the memories, reminding herself that Adria, as she introduced herself, had just joined. She wouldn’t have been there for the invasion. Perhaps she didn’t even know the treacherous Czars that well either.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Adria.” Small talk was easy for Alysanne - it came naturally to her and was a simple way to distract herself from the fact that she was pressing her wing as tight as she could against her side in order to stem the bleeding as they walked.

“My name’s Alysanne, but most just call me Aly. I’m from the World’s Edge.” This probably wouldn’t be an appropriate time to tell Adria that she’d be better off switching herds. So, instead, she asked another question as she kept her eyes on Hemlock to see where he was moving. The small brown and grey owl was still visible among the foliage and kept her updated though their bond. Fortunately for them, it seemed to be a pretty straight pathway to the edge of this odd forest. “Are you new to Helovia?” After nearly four years living here, Aly still found it impossible to tell who was a native to these land and who, like her, had drifted in from somewhere else.