I was crying and snotting hideously, but I couldn't help it. Oh my sister, she had broken my heart into little bits and pieces with her clumsy hooves and big mouth. In front of everyone as well! Why, no, she couldn't have talked to me in private. Instead she had to go waltzing in with all the big herd members, and then talk poorly and tarnish the image I had been so careful to create. How I wished I was back in the times when Ru was being heinously annoying, always following me, always relying on me; I didn't realize how much I loved her (and how her sloppiness made me look even better- she was always helpful in creating a cleaner image for myself). What is the stupid saying again? You don't love something until it's gone? So detestably true.

I was alone. Everyone had marched off to war- it was okay if I snotted a bit, right? Tears stained my beautiful, delicate face, always so clean and composed. I wanted to throw myself on the ground and stamp my hooves at the same time- but that would only mess up the hair I had managed to untangle (and trust me, untangling a beautiful lion's mane of hair alone was incredibly difficult), and get grass stains on the coat I cleaned every morning to agonizing perfection. It wouldn't bring Hotaru back, no matter how much I longed for her presence.

I wished the forest wasn't so eerily quiet.

Tossing my mane away from my long lashes and big, bold eyes sparkling with tears, I gazed up at the stars, fighting the desire to yell to them dramatically why. Why had they stolen my sister from me, little Ru? Why had they let Ru steal my image, my composure, away? Didn't the gods care about family? Another sob bubbles up from my chest, and I blink miserably. Damn stars. They were supposed to shine down, wrap me up in complimenting silver light, lead me on to a great destiny with my prince charming, just like Phaedra with Tolio. It appears not. Eventually, my mind slips away from the betrayal of the stars (and the lovers they were supposed to cross). I stand in the lonely forest, breathing in the musk of moss.

Rain begins to fall, light and easy, hardly more than a drizzle. It drips from leaves and glistens on the grass beginning to grow from the earth. I sigh softly, and focus on creating the glow from my horn. (I didn't know what the actual power of my magic was. I just that my horn glowed.) It was a nice and useless magic.

I pretend the rain's washing away my sins and sorrows, like in a book, but really it's making me cold and wet and more miserable.