Lighting flashed all around her, lighting up the darkness beneath the roiling clouds with earsplitting cracks. She could hear Kiuaji call out, her name a moan upon lips that ought to be wrenched shut in pain and fear. Her knees trembled, barely keeping her upright where she stood before the raging God. A mere mortal, quailing beneath all the pent up fury of a thunderstorm as she blocked the path to its preferred prey. She should have known such impudence would not go unpunished, should have thought about the consequences before she threw herself headlong into a battle that wasn't hers.

But she never learned.

Pain ought to be familiar to her by now, but the searing, burning agony of raw electricity arcing across her body was so new, so intense and sudden that it caught her unprepared. Unable to restrain herself Erthë screamed, the horrible, heartbreaking wails of a wounded child. She felt the stench of burning hair and flesh fill the air, and felt the nausea come over her twice as strongly in knowing that it was she who burned. Helpless before the immeasurable powers of the Time Lord she writhed, unable to fall and unable to bear the pain in stillness. Round and around her mind swam, pulled down into torrents of torment for what seemed like days, years, eons...

But it lasted for mere moments, and then it vanished. The sparking energy, the pain, the ugly wounds on her body - in a single instant it disappeared, gone as though it had never been there.

And so did she.

One moment she stood on the storm-swept rocks of the Veins, and the next her buckling knees brought her down sharply into the thick heather of a meadow that stretched endlessly in all directions. No trees grew tall enough to interrupt the vast line of the horizon, no hill or valley brought reprieve to the vastness of the landscape. Above her the sky stretched out, equally monotonous in its overwhelming emptiness - so uniformly gray that she couldn't tell if it was clouds or mist or just too blue for her eyes to comprehend. A soft breath of wind swept tousled hair forth to cover her eyes - hair she could have sworn was burned away completely along with the feathers of her wings - and it carried with it a scent both familiar and foreign, comfortable and terrible in ways she had no words to describe.

Snow.

She must be far north, for snow to be falling already. But that was impossible. She had been by the southern sea a breath ago, how could she suddenly be on the other side of the continent? Without a warning, without a trace of magic, without any sensation to suggest where she had been in the moment between there and here, between now and then. Had there even been a moment? Erthë didn't know, she couldn't tell; she didn't even recognize the landscape around her, and the light of day was so distant and faint that it gave no hint as to which direction she should head to get home.

How far north was she? How long would it take her to return, how much time...? Time! Did she even know how much time had passed? It felt like an instant, but what if it was more than that? What if she had moved not only in space but in time as well, been thrown off into some distant past or future she didn't know? Shivering uncontrollably the mare tried to rise, but her legs were as weak as a newborn foals. Clumsily she fell to the ground, again and again, until she in a furious attempt tumbled sideways and smacked her knees into stone, smooth and black and almost completely hidden beneath the dense vegetation.

Black light erupted before her eyes and with the dizzy, nauseous sensation that the world was spinning around her the filly collapsed onto her side, saw the sky contract, expand and darken over her head...

and for a long, long while she knew nothing more.

Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking

Dark. It was so dark. Her thoughts were filled with it, slow moving shadows so dense they might as well be physically present. Before her eyes they milled and crowded, filling the air and suffusing her lungs, merging with her flesh and bones, with blood and soul until she too became a shadow. Merely drifting. Barely existing. Trapped, unable to return, suffocated and protected.

But not enough. The sleep that wasn't a sleep was not deep enough, not thick enough, the darkness not black enough to blot out the light that persistently pressed against her eyelids. It could not shield her mind from the memory of pain, nor from the new, cutting, stabbing jolts of agony that lit up the inner landscape of her mind like lightning on a dark night. Over and over again it came, that searing and burning sensation, and somewhere deep within Erthë recognized the dancing lights for what they were. Pain. Consciousness. The insistent call of reality that demanded she wake up and realize what was going on.

But she didn't want to. If it hurt this much through the numb haze of unconsciousness then waking up must be horrific, damning, unbearable. How was she supposed to handle this kind of pain, that was probably not of her own doing - the kind of pain that she couldn't swallow, grit her teeth and push through, because it was senseless and pointless and cruel? She clung to oblivion, desperately seeking to avoid waking up. But the more she struggled to not feel, the more aware she became of the pain, of the stabbing pain as something pierced her skin and the horrible, jerking sensation as flesh was torn open, exposed to air that wasn't cold enough to make the blood smoke and steam.

Not a sound came from the throat of the girl as she lay unmoving on the ground, but quiet tears soon began to leak from the corners of eyes where lids had begun to flutter. Not quite open, not entirely closed; light streamed through and through the haze of fear and agony Erthë received an image of something standing over her. Big and contorted by the skewed perspective, blurry and vague... was it a wolf come to feast on her flesh? Some legendary beast intent on feeding her still breathing body to the next generation of monsters?

But no, the shape was too familiar, and Erthë had no choice but to admit that the monster was a horse like her; bloody red as the liquid that stained the snow beneath her, and with a voice as sweet and terrible as a poppy flower. Oh, how she longed for that sweet relief now... for everything to end in a numbing swirl of nothingness, until only happiness and pleasure remained.



For the longest time after the hoof falls of the creature had faded into silence, the fallen angel lay motionless in the grass. The light from the sky had faded still more and snow was falling, solitary flakes that did little to soothe the burn in her body. Fear of moving numbed her; she was terrified of raising her head to look at herself, unwilling to see what had become of herself. The stench of blood hung thick in the air so she knew the wounds were substantial; not moving might get her killed too, should the blood continue to flow unchecked.

Whimpering in agony she bought the head up, slowly, painfully; bloody crusts cracked and began to bleed, and without giving herself the chance to chicken out Erthë glanced down on herself. In an instant the world began to spin as bile rose up her throat; over and over again she swallowed to bite back the nausea, her numb mind seeking desperately for something that might keep her sane. Crying wasn't allowed - if she cried here she would be done for, unable to ever move forward again. Pity was forbidden, as was sadness - she couldn't grieve for herself because nothing vital had been lost. The wings were still attached and responded to command, her legs weren't worse off than when she'd arrived and she could still see, hear, taste and smell and feel, so a bit of marred skin and sore muscle shouldn't be anything to worry about. No, what she needed was... was... anger! Yes, how dare the foul creature touch her while she was not aware! How stupid of herself to succumb to oblivion like that too, it was a mistake she would never repeat again. A coward and a sick bastard had dared lay hand upon the sleeping valkyrie, but as soon as she was home and mended again she would... would train, and learn, and she would find the monster who had ruined the body her mother had died to save and...

Tears were falling again, but this time they felt hot and angry, and Erthë allowed them as she struggled to get to her feet. It was horribly painful, each movement causing blood to ooze out through the jagged tears until she resembled the Amaranthine in her red cloak of rage. Oh, if only she had been strong like that god-blessed woman, as noble and untouchable... No one would ever dare to defile her in this manner. It just went to show how insufficient she still was, didn't it.

Sucking in breath through trembling lips, the girl focused her mind inward; the blood ceased dripping as the water in the thick substance froze, turning ugly wounds into a masterpiece. Crimson roses blooming on snow, wasn't that lovely. Now, which way was south? She had to get home, had to see a healer, had to tell someone that a maniac was running rampant... Alune, Tembu, Eva...

Father. Where are you when I need you the most? Why are you never by my side?

Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking