Andromeda was a relatively young mare at six years, roughly the equivalent of a woman in her early twenties. By all means, she had lived a somewhat sheltered life, fearing little but always being aware of what-ifs and what may be stalking here as she rested under the silken silver stars. She was at peace throughout her life, never fretting nor worrying, her brow very rarely knotted; and she loved it, the sweet freedom that came with it, the it being unburdened by societal conventions.

When the darkness had eaten the sun, swallowed the sky, and tore down the wallpaper of clouds, moon, and stars, she had been struck by a panic that ran deep in her heart. At the time, Andromeda had been gliding above the world, coasting along the half-build foundations of the metal wall, patrolling for outsiders or those who looked rather peculiar, out of sorts among the herd. Andromeda had a loyal heart, which was perhaps her only source of pride and achievement, as well as the trust and faith Kri had in her. Lately- before the blackout, that is- she had taken to flying around Helovia, but with the darkness, she had gotten lost.

Entirely and irrevocably.

For many hours the only sounds disturbing the terrifying, impenetrable, seeping, hideous blackness that did not relent nor expose the stars were the beats of her wings, a whisper of feathers. Winds had swept her far away from the hot, dusty place she both hated and loved with a passion, and so, lost, she soared above the world, fearful of landing, scared by the thought of seeing what monsters now crawled and crept and slithered. Yet her wings grew heavier and heavier, and her lungs seemed a little more crappy, and so she came closer and closer to the ground, until she came stumbling downwards, unable to see where the pitted earth was beneath her feet.

She wanted to be in the red dust, dry-throat home of the dragon.

The snow was the sort of dry powder, the one that if melted would develop into a slippery ice, but the temperature was so cold, so frozen on her skin, that it was unlikely it would ever happen, especially with the Sun God missing. Perhaps they had deserted them. But why? Had the children of the gods- not the demi-gods, but the collective natives of Helovia- done something to disappoint them terribly?

A vaguely familiar scent drifted, hardly detectable among the stench of decay of rotting grasses and dead flowers; a scent that conjured images of a heavy rain and falling, with nobody to help her up. The Sergeant was not one to hold a grudge, but nevertheless... leaving someone to drown didn't stand out as a trademark of being a very kind individual.

Cautiously, Andromeda followed it, wing-tips nearly dragging on the ground, exhausted and somewhat irritated.

Her legs trembled as she moved, and she halted, nostrils expanding as the frigid air burned her lungs. All she wanted was to return home, and yet the stench of wet horse- reminding her strongly of the night in the rain long ago- implored her to move forward, to offer her help with her little knowledge of healing, perhaps just provide a shoulder to lean on. Taking the high road. Once, twice, she stumbled, yet she did not fall to her knees.

Voices.

Unable to register the content, the mare who had been flying for more than several days nearly collapsed, yet somehow she managed to stay standing upright. "This is ironic," she sighed deeply, with the sigh of a mare well-practiced at sighs. "Andromeda- are you alright, mare-of-the-rain?" Her nostrils flared, taking in the scent of another. Hardly able to bring herself to care, she tipped her head in the direction of the other, forgetting the stranger probably was unable to see her star-splashed shape in the darkness.