Today I was not particularly happy. No, quite the opposite. I was furious, at the unicorn leading me and at myself, at me breaking my wings, at me being lulled by the serpent's silver tongue and being attacked. I was more than angry, beyond anger, bordering on hate so strong it would overpower everything I did. If there was one thing the Stormchaser did not like, it was being restricted for the skies, being grounded, being trapped, being... outsmarted. And I was out of my game, out of any stupidity to think I could escape. Instead of complaining, giving the enemy any satisfaction on my frustration gleaming through my black eyes, I preened my wings, nibbling away at the dried scarlet encrusting the black. I lulled myself to relaxation, repeating the many lessons I had learned through life as I cleaned my wings, trying to ignore the big mess of pain and blood at the tips of my bird-like features- the six primaries missing from each wing. I'm sure they would grow back, much faster with a healer around, but for now I may as well be chained to the ground. Technically, I could fly, or at least flap, but I'm too sure I would drop to the ground like a stone without the important primaries to guide me, and risk hurting my broken wing even further. Yes, to add to my embarrassment, I had been caught unarmed traveling out of my herdland searching for Poppy, a splint on my left wing, my forelegs swollen and bruised.

Fuck my life, and fuck this arrogant stallion.

That is how I enter into this white wasteland, barren except for the one or two gnarled, twisted trees hunched over in their misery at being confined to such a godforsaken forlorn place. Everything is achromatic, lacking all colors. Immediately I hate this place, hate this cold, locked in chains forged not only from this gray stallion, but myself, my own shackles of anguish. I glance up, glaring at the bastard, yet I cannot stop a pang of fear blistering my heart. He seems emotionless, a sculpture of dark stone, legs and muzzle shadow-cloaked, a slender horn piercing the air, a piece of chiseled obsidian ending in a sliver of a sparkling deep blue. What chills me most is his eyes, like my own black ones, except his do not show a scrap of pity, only pride at the ability to capture me. Me! A pegasus! A Windtossed Foothills' leader! Which sends me back to my own herd, back to my worries. What of Nayati, my darling girl? Is the herd taking care of her? Goddamn it. And Evers and Archibald- did they know I was missing? When would a search party come? What if a trap was set for them? What if someone practiced torture on me here? What if, what if, what if. Keep your head high, Svetlana, and ask him what we're doing here. I tell myself, yet my nerves claw at the insides of my stomach. Somehow, I manage a few words strung together, devoid of any anger or submission in them. "So, unicorn, where is your manners? Why have you brought an injured mare here? I do hope that you have somewhere nice and cozy for me to rest my broken wing and swollen legs, not to mention my bleeding wings." As usual when I'm worried, my words begin to take on a sarcastic, flighty note.