She remembers the swift wind and the rolling grasses and the thundering hooves on the plain, her ancestry, her birthright, her heritage... all gone.

The demons descended and enslaved her race, warped them and thwarted what she could become. She wanders now with ancient memories, the aftertaste of metal in her mouth and a skin-crawling itch where the saddle once rested on her back.

...Is that another herd in the distance?

This story is part of Nightmare Night in April. Art by GGA.