I love you more in my head

but I’ll love you better when I’m dead

⬡ ⬡ ⬡

Naydra does not follow the bronze stallion after he departs. She knows she will find him again — but for now, she must remain hidden. The little ledge high above the tree tops is a lovely place to stay for a few hours, but it is not a suitable home for much longer than that.

Naydra begins to climb.

She knows that there are habitable places nestled high in the spires of the mountain, and the silver black mare aims for them, picking her way up the slopes a little at a time. She is agile and athletic, but she has never climbed a mountain before, and she soon learns that such an activity is rather distasteful. The view, at least, is pleasant.

The sun has begun to set by the time Naydra halts, and finds a stable little place to rest for the night. The temperature has dropped drastically, and despite herself, the black mare shivers. There is no snow here, only grey-brown stone and hardy vegetation, but the moisture in the air has begun to freeze in little fractal patterns on any exposed surface. Thunder rumbles above her, and Naydra wonders in alarm if the weather intends to wreak a blizzard on the mountainside and sweep her away. From her spot on the cliff, Naydra can hear the wind howling, but she is luckily sheltered from the worst of it.

The thunder grows louder and more menacing, and Naydra chances to look up. At once, her honey-gold eyes widen in horror, and her body begins to move of its own accord. She near-tumbles down the side of the mountain, her hooves barely keeping her upright as she succumbs to panic. Behind and above, the mountainside has begun to chase her.

At least, it seems that way to the silver-haired woman. A wall of snow, ice, and earth has apparently detached from its perch, swallowing everything on its way down. In her quick glance up at it before her panicked departure, Naydra saw it envelope entire trees in a grey-white wave.

She does not look back at it again as she runs. The avalanche was far away, but the speed with which it covered the mountainside was awe-inspiring. Naydra thanks her lucky stars that she hadn’t gotten very far up toward the Peak, and as she reaches flat ground, she begins to slow. She is not safe yet, but she turns toward the Falls, her panic clearing just enough for her to think. If the snow acts anything like water, it will shoot over the ledge of the Falls, leaving a gap of air between the wall of water and the cold, wet cliff face. Naydra isn’t even sure the avalanche will come down this far, but she doesn’t care. The coal-black mare scrambles into the pool, ignoring the freezing, bitter water. Her hooves slip a few times, but she does not stumble until she has pressed herself into those precious few feet of mist and empty air behind the waterfall. It is freezing, and Naydra’s lathered and steaming body is shocked by the sudden embrace of frigid spray and biting cold stone. She gasps, but the uncertainty of the avalanche keeps her firmly wedged beneath the Falls.

Shivers wrack Naydra’s body, and she waits.

Naydra

mare. 16hh. silver black. rougaru x visurix.