This raid, this Eaglecrest raid. What had it left for them to harvest? They had learnt, without a doubt, not to trust as easily in a natural foe. Not to trust that betrayal is far away. They had banded together and ultimately become stronger, through their battling and their choices. Hawkmeadow had lost much, but the scale was far less than the Battle of the Iron Will, as some have come to call it. They had since acquired stronger, capable leaders who did not wither away, but instead had learnt to take the brunt of crisis and turn it around. No more would the Hawks have to rise from the ruins, for they stood proud and resolute to the Eaglecrest onslaught. Some had made future friends, such as Faux Pas and Topaz Arete, or Chronic and Goblin. For what reason, then, is the Lady of Hawkmeadow fighting for her life?

The rolling, ominous clouds brought rain with them, pattering softly against the snow, turning it to mush. Droplets hung suspended in the air, and blew sideways in the wind, stinging the wretched figure of Topaz Arete. With gaunt, pale features of terrible anger she surveyed the aftermath of yet another Eaglecrest raid, her fathomless eyes a haunted shade of coal, her forelock dripping onto her blood stained forehead. Still and silent she stood against the bleak winter sky, barely alive, barely standing. Tears mingled with blood in her eyes as she watched Sultan loose to an Eagle, as she watched her life slip away and into the Crest. Why was she so lucky to remain? Why shouldn’t she go instead of he. It broke her heart, and in such sorrow there was no room for anger. She hoped only he would use such a statement as her mother once had “heart in the meadow, hooves in the crest”. As a tear rolled from her haunted eyes it diluted the blood around her muzzle, and was gone. The eagles… they had ruined her… they had ruined everything… they had Sultan… the only solace she could find, was in the fact that Elingaes and his father would be together. Away from her… oh god…
The fear of collapse if she dared to move was too much, thus she stood stock still. Both shoulders had been gashed into, one close to the elbow, the other forward of the shoulder joint, which was protruding from a mass of hideously scarlet flesh. The bone was pearly white and red, and she could not look at it for fear of falling dead on the spot. It had been shunted forward and sideways in two separate attacks, and her body was screaming out in pain. Her weight was constantly being shifted between her limbs, forelegs swelled, one about the knee, and the other around the elbow. She could barely hold her own weight for the pain in caused. Her left hind leg was suffering from an injury to her flank and hindquarters – its movement compromised - a flap of skin about an inch long was hanging awry, offering her crimson flesh to the stinging zephyrs of chilly winter as the rain seeped into each wound. Between her back and withers were two deep slits, spluttering blood and exposing the sides of two thoracic vertebrae. In the middle of her forehead the skin was grazed and crimson, barely holding its own against the threat of its skin breaking completely. Blood ran from every corner of her body, pouring itself from each wound and pooling beneath her on the snow, in a stark reminder of what had been and what was to come. And in her heart she knew; you should not be alive… you should be strewn on the ground next to Faux as she rested, and you should not be breathing but it did not scare her. She knew it was the truth; these injuries would eventually take their true toll. The litres of blood she was loosing could not be compensated, each moment she began to feel fainter and fainter, until her sight became blurred and dark. Beneath her, at last, her legs folded. They gave up with her heart and her mind, and she fell against the snow, her muzzle buried into the smooth chill, its crystals stained red by a single drop which escaped from the graze on her forehead. The social trauma that she would have to face was ignored… the loss of Sultan was discarded, the chance that Chronic would fall to her “friend” Goblin was heaved from her head, the knowledge of an Eagle named Elingaes was disregarded. Her thoughts were now screaming at her to let go, to let Lady Death take her from this world of agony. But she did not; she fought it. Eventually her strength would return, yet throughout the night her weakness would be exposed; for once she did not care. This agony, this pain was too much for her cares and worries. Skrew being strong and indestructible, Faux Pas had nearly killed her, Topaz had nearly killed Faux. In her dead slumber she wallowed, and for once the constant pain within her abdomen was drowned out, as the bone of her shoulder jutted and grazed along her vertical cheek’s ridge that was curled toward her shoulder, arching her nape in shivering elegance. The blood that had previously poured in immeasurable amounts, in flamboyant rivers of black crimson was now beginning to clot, to dry; and at last she was saved the indignity of being died red. Still it stained, and gave her the air of a vampire, as it painted murals upon her wretched heart. Her curved withers stretched the two wounds, expanding them until three vertebrae could be seen, almost four. Death was creeping ever closer, but she fought it; she fought it with all the strength she had left. She was a piteous sight and even in slumber her pain was intense, it bored into her soul and destructed her spirit, and many times during thunderous evening her breathing ceased. Thrice, in fact, the utter terror of her injuries was made plain, as the constant and rather comforting inhale and exhale of her breath ceased for decades of seconds. 10, 20… it made no difference to her body, but only those who had passed by during her sleeping escapade may have noticed. Whether she wished to live or not was irrelevant to the Lady Fate, and she could be seen almost angelic, wretchedly illuminated by the sun’s last rays upon the snow, a shadow upon a rise, crowned in shifty rain drops. For once she appeared fragile, broken, and lifeless. She slept there, waiting, hoping for someone to come… to care… to wake her from the edge of eternal darkness.

Topaz Arète
Lady of Hawkmeadow

There’s another world inside of me that you may never see
There are secrets in this life that I can’t hide
Somewhere in this darkness there’s a light that I can’t find
Maybe it’s too far away or maybe I’m just blind
So hold me when I’m here
Right me when I’m wrong
Hold me when I’m scared
Love me when I’m gone
Everything I am and everything in me
Wants to be the one you wanted me to be
I’ll never let you down, even if I could
I’d give up everything if only for your good
So hold me when I’m here
Right me when I’m wrong
Hold me when I’m scared
‘Cause I won’t always be here
Love me when I’m gone

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