Something is wrong.

Something is horribly, horribly wrong.

I cannot say how I know, but the feeling of unease has settled in my chest, and I find myself pacing a wall that I cannot continue to build, restless. Finally, I take to the air, wondering if somehow that will rid my mind of the panic pressing in at the edges, emotions that are in all likelihood caused by the endless night that has settled across the land. It is odd, flying in darkness; I have come to rely so much on sight that it is hard to do anything but. For a moment, I wish that I had Rasta's gift of feeling the vibrations of the land, but then I remember that it would do me little good so far above the ground.

I have returned to my pre-pregnancy fitness, or have very nearly done so, with only a few traces of weight still clinging to my stomach. It makes flight that much easier. I am surprised by the terrain I am able to distinguish from the tiny droplets of light scattered along the well-worn paths of Helovia, amazed at how well I have learned our roads and landscapes. I would not have expected to be able to find my way unerringly into the jaws of disaster, and yet I arrive there all the same.

It is the shriek of panic that drew me in, the frantic cries for help, and the feeling of powerlessness, of fear, of something truly and inescapably wrong returns. I want to run, I want to hide, I want to be anywhere but here, and yet I know that here is undoubtedly where I must be. I land in the marsh, terrified by my surroundings and the cries that seemed to surround me. I take a few steps forward, and I am met by the sight of a young filly, and then a full-grown mare. The youngling seems at a loss; I bypass her without a second look, though normally I would have been very much concerned with her safety. The mare is panicked; again, I pass her by when I know I ought to stop, for I have seen what lies beyond.

A low moan escapes my throat, for I have no words for the tragedy that lies before me. I sink to my knees at the side of my dearest friend, my legs suddenly unable to hold my weight. "No," I gasp, a choked whisper as I collapse further, cradling her body with my own. "No, Rowan, don't do this," I plead, though I know it is useless. Oh, if only I had learned to heal, if only I had kept an eye on her, if only, if only, if only... You are my sister, you are my soul, you are the second half to my whole... "Please," I whisper.

And the tears begin to fall.

"talk talk talk"

Live... I want to live on fire
Die... I want to burn out brighter
Brighter than the northern lights
Want to live to feel the daylight