I am a crow. The wind weaves in out of my feathers. I like to imagine this is how flying feels, but I know it can't be right. My feathers are too heavy, too thick, being made of my black fluid. The wind doesn't glide through my wings as much as it rips into them, dispersing my ink like a fine mist behind me as I soar.
I have to flap often and I must make myself small.
Yet I am flying all the same. That has to be worth something.
I glance below and keep an eye on the young mare running below me. She sped out with such haste I'm surprised she didn't trample me. I can hardly blame her after what I spied happening. I didn't notice Mirage else, unfortunately for this dame, I would have chosen her. The others I couldn't risk taking now and Kiara was in a good position at the right time that we were able to steal away unnoticed.
It will not go unnoticed for long.
Those unicorns will not be so easily taken from again I know. I'm sure matters of rescue will have to be handled with brute strength for a while.
I sigh.
I coast down on the breezes as the Edge unravels below. In a spiral I lazily return to earth, dropping beside Kiara as she reunites with her kin in a splatter of ink. From the black puddle I rise as flesh and blood, though my shiny jet coat might suggest I am composed of more even in my un-magicked form.
I stretch and toss my head as if to resettle my skin - actually it is exactly for that reason. The sensation of taking different shapes and different matter is one I could never describe. Literally.
I glance over at the pair once I have resettled. I can only bob my head in agreement at Kiara's words, concern reflected in the pools of my abyssmal eyes. I know our guard is too low here, only Aaron and Vikram have the proper training in warfare to protect our borders and fight off the raiders, but it's not enough. Our numbers have grown small and the stealths only weaken us further.
I shift my weight, uncomfortable with the weight of the knowledge on my mind.
We must become stronger.
I glance beyond the borders, to where the Threshold lies. Newcomers often drifted through there, if we could entice them here before the others herds, we'd get stronger.
The idea of me inviting anyone is laughable. I am liable to set them to fits of laughter at my attempts of charades. Should I train my body then, step into the role of protector when we have so few? My gaze drifts to my thin and wiry muscles with doubt.
I should certainly learn some things, I know, but I benefit the herd most as I am and should not trouble the protectors with a trifling spar in such an era of duress. Perhaps the Throat would loan me a partner... their herd is swollen with numbers, but Kri is frightening wench and out alliance runs thin from what I've gathered.
I drop my head in mild defeat.
Perhaps some rest and sleep will help me and my head will clear by morning. At most I could recon the plague some more, but delivering whatever knowledge I gain would always be an issue.
Not for the first time, and hardly for the last time, I lament my predicament.
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