Thick ash clung to her lungs. She was running, her sides heaving as she tried to escape. Her eyes searching frantically for her family. Somewhere in the distance she heard a crack and then a scream, the sounds all too loud as the forest around her fell apart. Her home turning against her. Frantic thoughts raced through her mind as she found herself desperate to find her parents, her siblings, the rest of the herd. She hadn't meant to do it, it was an accident. But it was too late for that now. Suddenly the world was caving in on her, clasping her in its warm embrace, flames licking her sides and trees falling down upon her.
She woke with a start, jumping to her legs, sweat dripping down her body. Her eyes frantically moved around, searching for the danger, but there was none. There never was. She gave a tired sigh and lowered her head down in defeat. Just a bad dream. She'd tell herself every night. Even if it was more than that, it's all she really could do to comfort herself. She had no one anymore. Once upon a time she had a family, a loving mother, a protective father, an adventurous brother, a sparky sister, and around them a herd of faces she could no longer put names to. Since the fire when she was a yearling, she had lost it all. She had seen her sister briefly after the fire, but her sister held nothing but resentment toward her, and she had quickly retreated to places where others would not know her for what she had done.
It seemed the whispers would follow her everywhere though, because it didn't matter how fast she ran, or how far she traveled they always caught up, haunting her nights and her thoughts.
Murderer.
Silly little girl.
So foolish.
You should have listened.
Her ears pinned back as they continued to haunt her, even when she was awoke and she screamed out in frustration, wishing they'd leave her alone. "Leave me alone!" She shouted and took off, her vision blurred by the tears that threatened to break through the barriers she put up. She didn't know where she was going anymore, she didn't care either. She just wanted away, away from the voices, away from the guilt. She wanted to forget.
She ran until her legs ached, till her sides heaved and her lungs burned. She ran until dusk was upon her, and eventually she was so weary she could stand no longer. Tripping over her own legs Nastartia fell forwards, rolling over something until eventually she crashed into something solid. Too tired to look up to see what it was, once again she fell into the grasp of sleep, repeating the circle all over again, the same one she had lived for the past two years. Run, fall, sleep, wake.
This time though she did not wake to tears and sweating. This time, it was different. Her one blue eye opened to rest upon the shape of the solid form she had crashed into. How long had she been out? Had it been hours? Minutes? She wasn't sure. But she had crashed herself against the frame of an equine. She was too drained to say anything, to react, to do anything, so she lay there, in her vulnerable state, at the mercy of whomever she had so rudely disturbed.
n a s t a r t i a
War does not determine who is right, only who is left.