so i had done wrong but you put me right
my judgement burned in the black of night
Areane’s mind reels as they stand there, a thousand thoughts that just keep spinning out of control, as if she was caught in the Mountain storm all over again.
She knows what she sees. The dawning light of day is making it clear enough for the young pegasus to piece together that this land with its lavish fields of wildflowers and lush meadows is the Pampas. She would recognize just as clearly if the autumn forest were before her instead, dressed in all its blazing colors. But there is still a look of disbelief lingering in her amethyst eyes, and there is a raise to her speckled brow that signals her shock.
The young mare beside her isn’t a Loessian, she learns. Myrna has no knowledge of where they are standing, only that it does, and the blue-sheened pegasus feels her wings wrapping tighter around her slim sides. It’s a familiar, comforting feeling as the feathers graze gently against Areane’s dark frame. A habit that she has done since she was a filly, and the looming presence of so much unfamiliarity surrounding them makes her feel small again.
Fighting against it, she asks her newfound companion, "I’ve heard stories.” She murmurs. "Sometimes I used to think my father had made them up to keep my brother and I close to home.” Loess, she means. Realizing that she has begun to ramble, Areane takes a deep breath and tries to better focus on the questions that Myrna had asked. "We were born after the Endless Night, and he always said that it could happen again. But it had something to do with the Alliance, and the power that came from the Mountain.” Her lips press together, because there was more to that tale, but Areane couldn’t recall all of it. It hadn't been about Loess, and she likely hadn't paid attention. "It was said to have warped, somehow."
There was the Endless Night, the various wars that seemed to pop up every generation or so (though those never seemed to be driven by magic, only mortals), the Reckoning that stripped Beqanna of magicks and territories. Could the same thing be happening again?
Remembering the tale about the Alliance might have proved useful now, because when Myrna asks her if what happened during the storm was something they might have created, the winged mare isn’t sure. "I don’t know,” Areane answers plainly. There is something rueful in the look that she gives the pale palomino. "Do you think there might be answers to be found back at the Mountain?”
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Viszla