Through the gloom of darkness that permeated her senses, she could sense someone approaching. With no strength left in her to rise and flee, all she could do was lay prone and listen at the sound of footfalls upon the soft ground. It was a rhythmic sound steadier by far than her own racing heartbeat, and all it could evoke in her was wave upon wave of dread.

Never before in her life, not even as a newborn foal, had Erthë been so defenseless. For what might well be the first time she fully understood the fear of the weak, of the prey, of the tree rooted to the ground in the path of an approaching wildfire. Through the haze of pain and fatigue a parade of red-coated monsters marched through, armed with gleaming spears and dripping with blood with their gleaming eyes trained upon her, hungry for more carnage. When the feet paused right by her she made a feeble attempt at rising, but it was impossible; even lifting the head was too big of an effort and she collapsed back against the moss and fern, so soft and cool beneath her feverish skin. Trembling, resigned to meet her end at last, Erthë cracked open the lids of an eye to at least take the face of her murderer with her to the Lady's side - but instead of darkness, instead of the twisted countenance of a monster, light washed over her and forced her to squeeze the eye shut again.

Blinded, confused - what was going on? Had the sun risen in the dead of night?

"What have you done..."

A soft voice reached her then, and with a shock of recognition the wounded girl realized she had a name to pair it with, a face that was, if not intimately known then at least familiar. "T-Til-ney...?" She tried to lift the head again, but all she got for her troubles was a face-full of cloth; a cloak draped gently over her body that pinned her down as effectively as if the healer had sat on her. By the gods, how weak she had become!

But if Tilney was here, that had to mean that she had reached her destination. She was home again, as safe as she could ever truly become. In her relief the dams she had build to all pent up fear and pain and self-pity was broken, unleashing a long, thin whimper from her throat that ended in a sob, as tears began to roll down blood-smeared cheeks. As swirling mist and creeping vines reached for her and began to knit together the ugly tears in her skin the girl cried quietly with her face pressed hard into the earth, as though by embracing it she might receive comfort in return...

The healing powers that enveloped her worked. She could feel the pain numb and fade from her limbs and with every hiccuping breath the fatigue drained away, a strengthening cordial inhaled and absorbed by the depleted essences of her soul.

For long, blissful minutes she lost herself in the pleasure of relief, and when the sensations ebbed away, Erthë became aware of another standing over her. Blinking as though waking from a deep sleep, she peered up at the angelic mare and found her beautiful face familiar - though, this time without a name. Ought she know it? Probably, but then again there were so many people residing in the Edge and remembering them all would be impossible even if she stayed home more than she was away.

"I'm... awake" she said, surprised to find that her voice was growing stronger already. "I... am I home? Is this the Edge, truly?"

Through tear-drenched lashes the girl looked in quiet desperation from the pale seraph to the lantern-carrying Doctor, fear of being mistaken evident in her whole being.

Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking