Everything hurts, burning with a fired-up passion that leaves her hollow, the outside world numbed to the raging pain that is beginning to kill the mare, slowly battering her down; a fortress conquered, a mountain climbed, a castle defeated. So much blood. It flows in sheets of crimson, dripping onto the ground, scarlet against the black. Perhaps the worst of her wounds is her face, completely savaged; the crimson elixir of life drips from it, a sullen tide rising, bruised, cut, and battered beyond repair. Little remains of her eyes, essentially pulled from their sockets. Long stripes of flesh peeling away curl down to her nostrils, and her left ear is particularly shredded, little more than a nub remaining of it. Cuts hang open on both sides of her deep black body; her left, trampled and oozing blood more slowly, the right sliced up in rough, careless strokes of the hard rock beneath her. The stench of blood is thick in the air, and salt is sharp on her tongue. Needless to say, the damage done to each other is spectacular.

The simple effort of running to Ampere in a desperate and wild attempt to finish her nearly sends her sprawling onto the ground, but she catches herself. Her breath heaves, her legs shaking beneath her, a new-born foal on a spring's morning, slick with blood from the mother's womb; still she tries out of idiotic stubbornness that would likely simply kill her.

She fights with raw passion now, a pulsing fury that crushes the pain.

A hoof hits her left side of her brisket, creating yet another bruise where the leg joins her chest. Still, she hears the smack of muscle and brawn hitting the earth, and feels the impact of Ampere hard against her chest, sending her what Hespera hopes it sent the pegasus sprawling. Skidding to a clumsy halt, she backtracks, hearing the groan of pain from her adversary. Sudden guilt cools her temper, dousing her in cold water. This battle was too savage, too long, and had too great a loss. She had fought, and there was no way she had won. The price was too high; why did she continue fighting? Turn away.

Somewhere in the back of her overrun mind, Otienu agreed with her silently, but she shoved away his acceptance of what she said.

She hated him.

That voice becoming all-too-familiar bellows in her ears, and Hespera cringes, recognizing the brutal truth confronting her now. Nothing is left for you here. She had let down her companion, herself, even the other mare; her father, her mother, Daermaethor and her dearest friends. The realization was, in part, a blessing; for she could come to terms to it, make her peace, instead of marching blindly on, denying the truth. She was a failure, and Tarleton was right with every bone in his damned body. Glancing at the rocks surrounding them (though she could not see them), the desolate shrines of the gone and lost, the unicorn offered her thanks for the slim chance she had at life left, and a bitter thanks for clearing her eyes. It was a cold and broken hallelujah.

Without word or comment she turned, limping away, never having felt so bruised in her life, and knowing she was bleeding to death. All too soon she could slip away to the ne'erworlds.

For a moment, Otienu hesitated behind her. His amber eyes searched for Ampere's; he gave a little chirp, a dip of his head, and took to the skies, wheeling off in the other direction of Hespera, leaving his bonded behind, though he could feel her pain tugging at their mental connection.

Faster and faster he coaxed himself forward, until the silver griffon disappeared into the night.

When would he return?, Hespera wondered.