This was pain, a different kind of pain that permeated up through my legs and out across the shivering expanse of my spine and sides. Ears, tall like towers, swiveled back and forth, orbiting a lowered skull as nostrils flared against the dusty ground. My body shuddered, legs trembling with each strained step. Several bruises could be seen blossomed out across my rib-cage, it looked very much as though someone had pushed me over to stamp on me a few times, and to be honest - it sort of felt that way. Where only a day before it had been bearable, now every breath was excruciating, tearing through weary lungs and putting strength into muscles long past due for a rest. My hooves ached, so hard, it was difficult to keep putting one foot in front of another and yet somehow... I did.

The breeze was light and airy, relaxing in a way, but not enough to sweep off the stress and anxiety driving a wedge into my heart. I was so lost, is this what forsaken felt like? Left in a watery cove to be bullied by a disrespectful cur and then expected to go looking? Searching, desperately for the Mother who was supposed to be there. Sialia was gone though, nowhere to be found, like a dark waif she was gone into the night, disappeared into nothingness. I choke on a spot of dust before clearing my throat, like fire burning a trail down my esophagus. (Mother...) My soul cries out for the woman I know will not answer the call and it is a terrible, drowning sensation.

Trees, tall and strong rise on either side of the trail, a trail marked only by weather-smooth stones buried by ages of leaf-mold and algae. Dark hooves shift the leaves from side to side, drawing vague and unfamiliar symbols into the dirt as I slowly amble forward. I cannot tell how long I follow this barely-there path, sometimes it branched off into three's and two's, coaxing me into the unknown although I always chose the brighter road. At this point I was in no mood for darkness, the shadows were already like angry spirits, dancing and clawing through the corner of my eyes, waiting for something to leap out for me. Then she was there, or I was there, here, wherever here happened to be. The path opened up into a clearing and there near the far side was a filly, white as snow with two wings perched tightly against her delicate sides. I stop, head jerking up and lips pulling taught into a pursed line.

We were not alone, aside from the wilting flower at the girl's feet there were four faded tombstones set in a sloppy semi-circle. Perhaps tombstone was putting it simply, because they were more like sanded monuments, etched with runes I could not read and all number of intricate designs. Each stone was guarded by a wooden shrine that suffered their own tragedy of age and weather, but stood resolute and proud all the same. The filly was snuffling about one shrine in particular, shrouding it from view, but what I could see of the smooth stone were black markings, black as coal and unreadable. Should I say something? Let the filly know that her sanctity had been breached? This place seemed like the sort one would hole up in to escape reality. "Ahem... I - am I interrupting?"  

"Talk."




@Erthe

'Not at all, I was just- Oh no! Are you alright?' here was a splendid example of what I had not wanted to happen. My intention of avoiding this form of interaction had been arduous and planned, avoiding equine that might try to reach out to the 'poor unfortunate soul!' I was not poor, nor was I unfortunate. I was, however, young and brazen, earning me a trophy in which to bring home to Mother (where are you?). somewhere at the back of my skull I refused to believe she was gone, a hard, heavy presence that refused to quite settle down. How could this girl know that though? She knew nothing, only what her gentle eyes told her as she turned her body around to face me. "I am okay I was- oh..." She was already moving on to the next phase of concern, even as I parted chapped lips to respond. Along with her name and a slew of other titles I could not place, she offered her help, aide to the crippled filly who obviously should not have been out here alone! (No! Don't think like that.) how could I not? (She is only trying to help, she means no harm!).

"It's only some bruising really, it probably looks worse than it is." And if worse meant excruciating and unnaturally painful than yes, it must have looked pretty nasty. How often does one come across bruising caused by fire, or electricity I should say. That filly, whoever she might be, had been merciless and crass in her treatment of me, especially considering I had only been trying to mind my own business. Talking that way though, throwing such crude and thoughtless insults? How could anyone condone such behavior? Where was her Mother to smack some respect into that wagging tongue? Then again, I suppose at this point I was in no position to be pointing fingers. I had not exactly put myself out there as a stellar example of mannered and 'well-behaved.' My own Mother would likely be appalled to know I had had such little self-control and even had the gall to get physical with things. But Sialia was not here was she? She was gone, missing without a trace and when I found her, I was surely not going to tell her where I got this ugly wound. "I am... Bathsheba of, well, the Basin."

At this point every breath was more of a wince, inhaling air into shredded lungs, injured by several days of heat and a sore lack of water. There were so many things I could have used right about now, a nice massage, a drink that lasted longer than a few sips, and a gentle nose to tell me how everything was going to be okay. A thick body to rest beside as the world slowly settled itself back into proper order. Pale eyes observe the filly, Erthë, as she moves closer. Her face was soft, apologetic even as my eyes traveled down that delicate chest to note the limp impeding her every step. A pang of something strange found its way into my breast, a blossom of heat and sadness, a familiar sensation of pity, except this time for somebody else instead of myself. It was bizarre seeing another soul who also suffered the curse of being crippled, as though in response to the emotional stimuli, the muscles in my hind-legs clenched hard. It was difficult to remain standing, not wanting to show anymore weakness than absolutely necessary. Erthë had spoken of healers and my brain automatically reached out (help me!) while my throat clamped down on any kind of verbalization. I had already caused enough havoc for one life-time, there was no need to bother someone completely unrelated because of my own inability to hold my tongue and look the other way.

"Talk."




@Erthe

Yes, I had taken a beating, I had been humiliated in one of the worst ways possible on top of being unable to do anything about it. Somehow hearing her point it out only managed to amplify the dismay growing steadily in my chest, pressing against the soft folds of my heart, making it difficult to breathe. "I-" I do not think that she meant to hurt my feelings, or make me feel worse than I already did. If anything she seemed hell-bent on giving me aide since realizing that I was in fact, injured. Injured, such a querulous term, the word itself was a hard-earned fact that left me hanging high and dry in a situation I was desperate to find some good in. Erthë was not unkind, moving ever closer, close enough to reach out a tentative muzzle to brush against my cheek. The action may have seemed irrelevant to anyone looking in and not knowing, but I could see the willful hope bubbling behind those pale blue eyes as they stared down at me. Help, I needed to accept her help instead of putting up such a fight and acting the fool.

Yet... is that what Sialia would have wanted? Erthë claimed to be from somewhere else, maybe another herd, wouldn't that warrant some level of distrust? Mother always warned me against talking to strangers and more-so, following them around. It was her way of keeping me safe, keeping me holed away from danger where I could not defend myself as normal foals could. Which is precisely how I managed to get myself into this whole mess! But this girl did not seem to wish me any harm, actually it was almost unnerving just how worried she was over my well-being, considering she knew nothing about me. Maybe if I had taken the time to look at the filly that did this to me I would have sensed the peril that would come, like I could look at Erthë here and recognize that she meant no harm.

Against my better judgement I caved, perhaps too easily did I take down my walls and let her see my honest to God feelings. A young, chiseled face painted in every shade of pain and discomfort you could imagine, my body jerking with every breath as days of travel and sleepless nights caught up with me. I hurt so much, so badly, even if the bruises really were superficial they still caused me so much pain. My legs trembled, struggling to support my weight under all of the stress pressing down all around me. "I don't know where I'm going, I don't know where I am, I'm scared and I haven't seen my mother in days - she's lost!" surely my helpless bleating would turn her head, make her think twice as the child that I was came pouring out in lieu of the soldier I tried to be.

"Talk."




@Erthe

When I revealed my weaknesses I suppose it was only natural for the white filly to look shocked, who would not? I was admitting to being helpless and in need of care, I was displaying my inability to function as a normal foal in a manner less than dignifying. Even as she began the process of changing faces I could feel the humility creeping up my neck, choking on the tongue that so easily shed my fears upon this stranger. It was a feeling that began to fester with every step the frosty girl took (she does look cold doesn't she?), slowly limping forward to align herself at my side. One large wing, (they are quite large) I thought, pulled away from her side, revealing a faint bluish dusting across her back and ribs I had not seen before. For a moment all I could think about was just how white this Erthë was, so stark and almost bland, if not for the mystical effect it sort of had on you. She was so beautiful, pale and powdery with her soft baby blues and even the horns curling out of her skull were something to be admired. The whole get-up made her devastatingly handsome and managed to give away a brand of elegance I could only dream of achieving.

I was boring, I came across those with coats similar to mine all the time, same old boring black and white. Compared to this gem I was the pauper to her princess and although it might not have been the best method, it was enough to drag my mind away from the numbing pain radiating up from my back-legs. Focus on something, on her, on the way her mouth moved and the muscles rolled under her skin. (Can I be beautiful like this one day?).

"Dragons... throat?" Who named something after a dragon's throat? I could only imagine how hot and uncomfortable that would be. My biggest question should have been what the throat was, another herd? Just another obstacle between me and my Mother? The way Erthë talked it sounded very much like another herd-land, liked the Basin. Short, vague memories of Sialia discussing other places like home came to light, chugging sluggishly from the dark recess of my mind. It seemed logical that the Basin was not the only herd in the land and yet there was a notion in my head that made me want to believe it was, for purely selfish reasons. "Gods?" even better! She started the entire explanation with some excerpt about Gods. Now what were those? My pale blue eyes followed the direction of her nose as she gestured toward the shrines I had noted earlier. Those old things? Falling apart, chipping stones caked in sand and etched with some unreadable language. Those were what housed the Gods she spoke of? It seemed a little bit... inadequate.

But Erthë was elated over the whole thing and so I simply shrugged my shoulders as she made suggestions, pray to them, ask them for guidance. Until this moment I did not even realize such things existed, which was a wonder considering, you would think that my Mother would have explained such powerful deities if they were capable of all that. Especially if they could potentially heal me. I was not going to erase the joyful glow on her face though, instead pulling a smile from somewhere out of a dark corner. This Dragon's Throat sounded like my best bet to be honest, with a healer that could at the could help ease the pain. "I suppose I should visit this Dragon's Throat then." her usage of 'we' was not lost, making my spine tingle with anticipation and anxiety. I was not used to the herd-complex that so many deferred to, being mostly on my own or with Sialia had its effects on a young mind.

"Talk."




@Erthe

I watch her quietly, eyes roaming across the sweeping curve of her rib-cage, sweeping into the relaxed valley of her hips. I do not know why but looking at her now, sleeping peacefully, she seemed so fragile. It forced me to wonder (is that how others see me?). I cannot imagine anyone could look at me and see someone as breathy and... it was there, right on the tip of my tongue. A sort of feeling that tickled the edges of my mind the longer I gazed at the white yearling. Powder! Yes, that was it. I cannot imagine anyone seeing me as breathy and powdery as Erthë, she is beautiful. She is all long, gangly limbs and smooth skin, gifted with that precious white that made it difficult to see her as anything other than good. Perhaps that is why I remained, why I chose to stay standing there as the minutes ticked by into hours. Why for whatever reason, I gave this stranger the benefit of the doubt, and entrusted her with my well-being.

Mother would be so disappointed.

But mother was not here. Sialia was gone, lost (abandoned you), no doubt searching desperately for her errant daughter. That is what I am right? Errant, disobedient, I left the safe-zone, traveled wayward in fright and desperation. Possibly looking for her, or maybe I just needed to escape. There was no right or wrong answer, both of them sounded right in my head, resonated correctly in my heart. I wanted to leave that place, designated as my newest bolt-hole, utilized for the sole purpose of hiding me away from everyone else. Safe, that is what it was, safety was Sialia's prime directive where I was concerned. She taught me everything I needed to know, how to hunker down and make myself less visible, even with this blue horn of mine. She showed me how to use water to assuage the pain in my legs, make it easier to move off in the face of danger (yeah right). I can forage, make scraps out of bark and survive off of willow. I can make symbols in the dirt that only she would know, our own little language between mother and daughter. That was a good thing was it not? Such a developed relationship was smiled upon in society right? So where was she? My guides went unheeded, unseen. It was three days since my departure and here I was, surrounded by foreign trees, foreign ground, strange rocks and an unexpected friend. Friend, the word sounded bizarre and heavy on my mind, aching against the back of my throat.

Erthë was here, but I do not think she particularly meant to be. Maybe it was the way she quirked her legs when I appeared, in how her ears first dropped at being disrupted from her pondering. Mother's first rule was always to look, see what was happening around you, notice everything and make calculated decisions from that point on. I did not see Erthë, I stumbled upon her. Now she was bound to promises that even I did not want to keep, but promises were the golden rule of life, you did not make them to break them.

My gaze is taken from the white filly, forcefully tearing myself from the angst drawing up against my breast, making it hard to breathe. I needed air, something fresh and not so drenched in reality, I needed... Gods. I remember the bright, vivid light in her eyes as Erthë explained them to me, as though they were common knowledge and she was tutoring an infant. She was not wrong, I had never heard of the Gods until earlier, Sialia never mentioned them even once. Yet here was a yearling who claimed there were four of them, snuggled soundly within their rocks, waiting for the unsuspecting to come upon them for whatever reason. How was it that four, infinitely powerful beings wound up trapped within stone? Pale blue eyes wander slowly over every edge, drinking in the runes upon each surface, their differences, a language I could not decipher all the while feeling inherently at home. I want to speak, draw one of these Gods from their chamber, if only to see it in the flesh, see if it was real. I turn to face them, all four of them, hooves planted firmly in the dirt as I observe closely.

Erthë had been poring over the darker one, off to my right, drawn upon in a sharp and edgy black as though someone had scored the top with pure starlight. The longer I stare the colder I get, a hollow sensation that sways at the base of my gut, I swallow and move on. This one is pale, lighter than the rest and the writing flows, it reminds me of water, carving its way through soft stone. Vines grow up and around, climbing through the wiry saplings standing guard at its head, small blue flowers could be seen between thin leaves. The chill is replaced with something warm, like the spring sun only just coming over the horizon. The feeling hits me quite strong, although I am not sure how - I feel safe, much like I did when my mother was around. Reluctantly I bring my gaze to the next shrine and I stop, lids narrowing just so. This stone was dark, charred and ashy, stung by fire and left to suffer beneath years of weathering. It made my heart pound fiercely and I exhale deeply, "Sun..." -CAW!

A bird, one I do not recognize, bursts from the lower limbs of a tree. Shrieking a song of warning, foreboding and obnoxious, it grates against the soft shell of my ears. I jump in fright, startled, stumbling backward while all connection to the strange tombstones are lost. "Stupid bird!" I gasp, shaking my head in an effort to re-arrange my nerves. It was time to go, I needed to leave this place with its broken paths and simmering, colorful creeks of... I hated to say lava but that really is what it looked like. Flesh still shivering after my brief scare, I stride sadly over to my yet sleeping companion "Erthë, Erthë wake up, it's been forever we need to go. Maybe I'm too rude, harsh even as I reach down to nose at her flank nearest me. I press my front hooves to her back as gently as I can and lean, much like I do with Sialia when she has slept past her intended awakening. Or whenever I was bored. It takes her a moment but the filly, agile even with her own crooked legs, comes away from the leaf-mold and shakes the sleep away. Anyone could see that she was still tired, maybe she was suffering too, lost in a way like I was. There were no words needed for her to pick a direction and start walking, I merely followed, lips pulled into a taught line, nostrils fluttering in anxiety. I had no idea the adventure that awaited me, and all I had to do was leave.

Speech




@Erthe - oh my god I'm so sorry this is so long, I really tried not to pp her as much as possible like, words or anything. I don't think it would be terribly necessary, I know I hate being talked at when I first wake up lol. But I tried to make the leaving part simple, I hope that's what you meant by 'take it from here?' Ha ha... ha. I guess just tag me whenever you get the thread in the DT up. (I completely forgot to throw her pain in there and I'm not ashamed)