It all remains the same- Any

[Zephyr]

Monsters. They are not what they tell you in stories - they are not something that hides under your bed at night, waiting for your eyes to close so they can creep up and haunt your dreams. They are not creatures with long claws and devil's horns. 

No, the true monsters are other people. 

A point proven as the ivory mare lay in the tall Tephran grasses. Her forehead agape with a large cut from the fall, crimson blood dripping down onto the ground, staining her alabaster pelt. Beneath the wound, her head pounded, blood rushing to the crack in her skull - a minor contusion, but painful to say the least. 

Sleep is a thing that Zephyr often did not get. Insomnia kept her awake most nights, and if she was able to sleep, it was a sort of rest that was not really refreshing. A half in-half out of consciousness, always on high alert for dangers. 

But here, she lay. Aside from the wounds on her head, she looked quite peaceful. Eyelids shut, hiding the milky white film of her orbs, body spread out almost as if she had chosen to lay there. The flame covered mare had sent Zephyr running, a devilish thing to do to someone who had no trust to begin with, who was finally learning to open up to someone. A crash, a wound, and now she was asleep. She had no idea of the events unfolding just a few feet beside her. 

Now, all she had to do was wake up.