It was a difficult storm to maneuver, tumultuous and dangerously quiet. I was stupid, full of energy, all too ready to take to the skies, ready to be filled with heart-stopping, wondrous adrenaline. The rush of insane power tingling your skin as your wings pump the air, the quiet rustle of feathers aligning themselves to help you soar, help you glide upwards into the belly of the thick clouds. The storm was so tempting, and it was my namesake- Svetlana the Stormchaser. Not blue-sky-chaser. It was a massive beast, a prowling black clouds filling the horizon ominously fast, curling tendrils expanding to encompass the edge of the world, flashes of light breaking its ebony-gray belly, the crack of the lightning whipping through the air to touch the earth below. I was flying high, extraordinarily high, hovering what seemed like in space, wings churning to keep me aloft, so high I could see the world bending, watch as the storms completely filled this thin skein separating earth from the heavens. I could see the trees, the deep forest, a shadow-infested land to the west, the ocean lapping at the shores of Helovia, and I took a breath. Air was incredibly thin up here, lacking in oxygen even for my enormous lungs, yet somehow I managed to breathe, to sustain my energy store as the storm prowled closer, ready to swallow me like a cat eating the mouse, the wolf snapping up the foal. Yet I began flying, using my primaries and secondaries with ease, spiraling and hoop-tailing and loop-de-looping towards the storm, completely at ease with this beast before me. Svetlana the Stormchaser.

Then, the storm's massive hands took me inside it's heart. Rain. It lashed my skin, soaked me through to my ivory bones, glistening in dewy droplets on my wings. The rain itself was warm, although I knew as soon as I left the storm my wings and my body would quickly become encompassed by ice, leaving me to slowly circle downwards, careful not to snap myself in two. It was glorious, the massive rumble around me, surrounding me, blocking out all of my senses, rumbling in my honeycomb bones, making me tremble like the bird caught in the fox's mouth. Not out of fear- out of pure excitement, pure need to fly and live on the adrenaline. Adrenaline junkie. I flipped and spun and winged higher, played in my playground, dropping down the slides called downdrafts and climbing the ladders called thermals. Beautiful. It was fun, so much fun! Until I realized just how dangerous the game had gotten.

Lightning. It flickered its tongue, snapping me up, the cat tired of my treacherous games with it. Yellow. The smell of burning flesh. And I was dropping, dropping downwards, wings aching, plummeting out of control in a much more dangerous game. Death. Why was I dying so early? I wanted to cry and laugh as I was swept downwards, the earth coming up much too quickly, delirious and in pain.

I've never heard a sound worse than the crunch of delicate bones and the last roar of thunder as the storm spit me out from its teeth. Neither would I ever forget that dreadful snap, the split of honey-comb bones, the red pain that flashed before my eyes as I was tumbling out of the sky, an apple dropping from a tree. I had broken through a thin layer of trees, wing askew, dropped into a snowbank and leaving a thirty-foot trench in my wake.

Was I alive, or dead? Everything seemed to be going quite dark...

"You know, youngling, one day if you keep chasing storms the way you do something will happen."

"Papa, I would never hurt myself."

"You'd be surprised. Children always think they are invincible, but real life is very different Svetlana."

"Papa..."

"I'm serious Svetlana. Take care of yourself, for one day things may change and you will be much worse off than you ever realized."

"Papa, can we go practice our flying?"

"We won't go anywhere- you'll take off from here."

"But Papa! It's so hard to take off straight up."

"In battle sweetheart, the enemy's going to use that to his advantage if you are unable to do such a thing."

"Hmm."

Everything rippled, retreating from my mind, and I watched in the darkness as the images receded, black painting over one of the few memories of my father I had. Panic. No, no, I don't want him to leave, where's Dad going, where's he going, he's going to die, red, red, everything's so red- DAD! No, he can't die, it isn't fair, you can't bring him back sliced up, it's not fair, what happened to him, he's my dad, he's MINE, nobody can take him away. HE PROMISED TO COME BACK!

"No honey, he's not coming back."

"Yes, he is!"

"No, he's not. He's dead and gone."

"He promised!"

"HE'S DEAD! Get out. Just get the fuck out. I'm sick of you, sick of you crying over him, sick you asking me when he'll be back! He's dead Svetlana, don't you understand?!" The images are overcoming me again, and panic seizes me as I see the gory body, his ribs, his bones, everything so red... and my mother, yelling at me, her eyes savage, kicking me, hurting me... waking up.

"Don't faint! Whatever you do, don't faint!"

I inhale, pain clubbing at me, breaking through the barrier I had receded to in my mind. My wing... my poor wing. I can't really do anything but breathe, try to calm the paralyzing fear and pain overcoming me. Something hard was nudging me. I managed to open an eye a bit, but everything was too white and blurry, too hard on my vision. The black eye closed, the house pulling the shutters down. Instead, I focused on the bright points of red-hot pain coursing through my body. Wing. Definitely not straight anymore. Fuck. Crumpled, broken. As for my other wing, it seemed okay, certainly sore. My whole body seemed to be tingling, filled with electricity from the lightning that had snapped through my veins. Vaguely I hear someone talking. Something about a friend. Pain.

"I can speak." My voice is rusted and hoarse. Was I... crying? As much as a horse can cry. God. My parents... dad. Mom. Fuck. "It's fucking cold out here." I mutter, carefully easing over onto my other side, as to avoid lying on my damaged wing. "Wing's not right. Fuck it all. Sore... maybe leg broken. Sorry. Svetlana." Still my words are hoarse and sad. I can't believe myself.

I appreciated the stallion's kindness, and his dragon's too. I muttered softly to myself, ignoring the blistering pain in my bones, carefully looking over the damage on my wings. I wasn't exactly ignoring the kind stallion, I simply wanted to see the injuries for myself. Surprisingly enough, there was little blood, if any- perhaps a few red droplets from my wings where a branch must've cut right through the edge of the muscle and sinew knitted together. Primaries were messy, secondaries somewhat straight still, ruffled and matted certainly, but straight enough. As for the right wing, it was... not right. No bone was showing though. None at all. Instead, the wing just seemed broken... knocked away. Leg. Right. Check the leg. I glanced at it, and then double-checked. It was swollen, incredibly swollen, thousands of scrapes trickling red into the white. Broken? No... just badly damaged. Fuck it all.

I turned my head to watch in fascination as the jewel-scaled dragoness fluttered over to a dampened log, a jet of red-hot flames leaving the small mouth. Fire. Red licked up at the sky, the belly of the sky swollen with frozen slush falling down in thick sheets, relentless. "Thank you. Really, I'm sorry for my bad temper." I apologized, feeling guilty for my tongue. But Lace was right- I needed to get off the soggy snowy ground. My right wing I carefully closed to side, very slowly, wincing as it stung, and swung up onto my feet. Immediately, my foreleg almost gave out, and I stumbled into Lace, mumbling an apology. Red was tainting my vision, or was it just the fire? I moved slowly forward, cautious, stopping near the warmth of the flames.

I wasn't completely sure if I was insulted or relieved when he smiled gently at me, his words a cooling balm on my feverish mind. No, I decided, I was just delirious and not taking everything in right. I glanced downwards at his dark leg, and I could see no scar, no trace of a former injury of a broken leg. Incredible. Soon, my thoughts were whisked away by joy of the warmth on my skin, driving away the wet cold of the damp snow falling thickly from the sky as the temperature dropped, nearing nightfall. Not good. "Healers are strange creatures, no matter how kind they may be." Is what I say, a delayed response many seconds later to Lace. It's rather irrelevant, but upon saying it, I immediately feel as if it does make sense. They're bizarre, and woven deep into plant lore, and it's weird! Whoa girl, slow down. A voice tells me in the back of my head, and I sigh deeply, struggling to remain upright and ignore the pain. Definitely delirious.

As for if people have been talking about me, well, I was just recently elected. "I wouldn't exactly be surprised if people have been talking about me. I was elected into the Foothills' Triumvirate not too long ago." I say, simple words spoken without vanity. I puff out my cheeks a bit, thinking. "I don't suppose we'll be able to find a healer walking around. I guess we should begin walking." I added a silent soon in my head, but I enjoyed talking to Lace.

I watched in fascination as the white dragon fluttered to Lace's shoulder, alighting softly upon his back with gentleness despite those sparkling diamond claws. As for where my allegiances lie, I am not sure, although I and the other leaders intend to send diplomats to reassure the other herds of our peace. Paladin had left after the election, as well as Soleil, and I did not know where they had went, nor if they fared well or poorly. "Paladin and Soleil left shortly after the election, replaced by Archibald the Dauntless and Evers the Able. I am sorry to say I do not know how they fare, nor where they are, but I can reassure you that the Triumvirate intends to send diplomats regarding our mutual allegiance to each of the herdlands." Another job that needed to be done. Technically, Evers was in charge of him, but perhaps I would ask him if he himself would like to travel to the herds. No- that would be insulting. My senses dulled to the pain, the world seemed drowned out by the crackle of the flames, yet the sensation of a muzzle brushing my cheek brought me immediately to the present.

"Yes?" I mumble, half-listening as he speaks. "I suppose we could stay for the night. I'm sure by tomorrow I will be fixed up by Poppy, although I'm not exactly sure where that lady's gone to." I trust him enough that he will stay with me. Not everyone would come to the aid of a horse simply to leave them. "Thank you for helping me."