Midday

"DAAAAAD!!!" she screamed in horror and rage as she charged against her. "NOOOO!!!"

     The creature was distracted, because when she went for her, she didn’t react until the last second, trying to dodge but it was too late. The filly jumped over her and smacked her head with the stick that she’d picked up. The creature, which her father had called Brisselle, acted confused when she jumped over her shoulders, and let out a loud groan when she hit her head with the stick, setting ablaze some hair locks. Windsong released a war cry when she hit her, and was about to do it again, but this time she didn't had the element of surprise. Brisselle, collecting herself suddenly extended her wings, and in an unexpected move caught Windsong between the momentum of the two of them, propelling her away like some kind of living ammunition.

     Windsong tried to take flight in mid air, but when her broken wing felt the air resistance she let out a scream of pain. She landed a few yards away, not being able to control her weight as it made her roll over the ground. Tears of rage and pain rolled down her cheeks when she finally stopped. The world was spinning, but that what had saved her before made it become still again. The fire returned, this time more alive than ever. It commanded her muscles to stop aching, and her lungs to use more air, even though it meat that they would be shred apart.

     Windsong got back on her fours, but her outburst of rage wouldn’t last long. As soon as she stepped up, a claw suddenly graved her by the neck and pinned her down again. She tried to resist, but the creature was just too strong for her, and she subdued her with no problem.

“Coileán chapaillíní diabhal!” Brisselle groaned as it dragged her through the ground with no care and rose her to stare at her face with wrath.

     Windsong tried to fight her back, but the moment she saw the spear being prepared she knew there was no way out of it. She was going to die, just like that hippogriff, and just like her father. Brisselle rose her high, graved by the neck, and was ready to strike her. Windsong shut her eyes no to see that sight again and waited to feel the steel inside her and the bitter end after that… But it didn’t happen.

     When the blade took too long, the filly began to question the certainty of death, and when even the grab at her throat became lighter, yet not loos enough for her to escape, curiosity beat her and she opened her eyes again. Before her, contrary to everything she expected, the creature was staring at her not with anger, but with a frown of disengagement. Just as if something about her had just puzzled the being that had her life in its very claws.

“Dodhéanta…” she whispered, disbelieved. “C-conas is féidir leat a bheith?” she asked immediately, as if Windsong'd have the answer to that question.

     Windsong frowned too. She was ready, more like resigned to, accept her death, but in that moment, the confusion of the being had found its way into her mind as well. Unluckily for both, none of them would have the chance to let out their doubts.

“Brisselle!” another one called her. “Cad é an t-ábhar?”

     Both the alluded and Windsong turned to where the voice had come from. Making the noise of what Windsong could only relate to a hurricane, another one appeared from the fire and smoke, flapping her powerful wings as it teared apart the curtain of shadows to show the dozen escorts that were following her. Windsong opened her eyes wide. The companions were just like Brisselle, but the other one was taller, if that was possible, and bulkier, not to mention the length of her wings, far larger than those of the one that was holding her. Actually, in comparison, the other one looked as if she could bash a dragon’s skull with its bare claws.

     Her mane was tangled in more braids, and in more intricate patterns, but as it flew the wind was able to still play with it, making it dance with the colors of the rainbow. She was wearing an armor which blazed as she moved by some unknown power, and by her neck a beautiful topaz shone with the power of the sun as it was kept inside a masterfully done metallic frame. Windsong couldn’t notice in detail, but she could assure there were many strange symbols in her plates, and even in the frame of her necklace, which inscriptions were burning bright.

     Blood stains were all over her fur and scales too, but in her case those didn’t spoiled her beauty. They emphasized it. The sole majesty of the creature as it took land made Windsong forget for a moment that her life was in peril. Only when the giant creature turned her eyes to her, and showed within them all her disdain was the awesomeness spell broken.

     Brisselle, still with her held fasten, immediately bowed, but the other one didn’t return the gesture.

     “Cén fáth a bhfuil tú ag loosing do chuid ama, Birsselle?” she asked to her captor in a scolding manner. “Ní mór dúinn a bheith páirteach leis na clans eile sula bhogann siad ar gan orainn.”

“Tá mé máthair brón orm” she bowed her head even lower. “Fuair distracted mé…”

“Níl mé ag iarraidh do chuid leithscéalta” the taller one continued. “Ach a choinneáil ag gluaiseacht” she turned to the other ones, which had started to gather around. “Do lá atá inniu ann is é an lá a chur orainn ar ais ár dtalamh!” a clamor rose from the presents as she spoke. “Na siúlóirí scamall Beidh rue an lá a ionsaigh siad an Talamh Spéir!”

     A generalized shout responded to her words, but Brisselle didn’t move for some reason.

“Bás do na siúlóirí scamall!” someone shouted in the background.

     Everyone cheered again in those fierce roars but Brisselle. Her grip to Windsong had only fastened.

“Máthair!” she called at the tall one, that by the respect the others had shown surely was their leader. “Tá mé rud éigin ba chóir duit a fheiceáil…” the leader heard her, and while her face became annoyed, she took the liberty to walk to her. When she was facing her captor, Brisselle rose the filly once again, showing her to the leader. “Inis dom go bhfuil sí ach chapaillíní ar coileán.”

     Brisselle handled her to the leader, and snatching her as if she were a piece of chinaware, the other one took her by her mane. She tried to break free, but that only fastened her captor’s grasp, and caused her even more pain. Windsong’s eyes watered from the way she was being held, but when she faced the eyes of the other creature, the agony was put almost to a secondary plane by the impression that she gave her.

     The eyes of the leader weren’t at all like those of Brisselle. In her stare Windsong found a thousand different thoughts, and a bright so enrapturing that even though they started to show disengagement, she couldn’t do anything else but to stare at them, baffled. Almost like if she had encountered something as beautiful as it was dangerous. It almost made her forget that the leader’s face had turned from one of annoyance to one of confusion, and finally had given way to utter repulsion.

“Ní féidir é seo a bheith…” she muttered as well with disbelief. “D’fhéadfadh sé?”