The reigning silence of Heaven has thus far made the winter more unbearable than any other. Cerva has wandered, to no avail, trying to find someone – anyone – to provide the company she yearns for. She has spent a long enough time alone, self-exiled, as she hid from the shadows her parents cast. It no longer lulls her or comforts her. Now, it frightens her.
As the storm looms nearer Cerva notices how the clouds swirl into deep shades of gray and black, warning of what is to come. The winds lift and twist, biting at her thick coat and trying to reach the delicate skin underneath. Assuming that snow is only a hairsbreadth away she stands underneath a large oak tree, its branches naked and gnarled. It hovers above her like a nightmare with such a dark, foreboding sky as a backdrop. She shudders. The world seems – feels – darker when she looks around and sees nothing but shadows and stripped trees.
That’s the reason why she is so eager to rush forward when she sees a face. She doesn’t recognize anyone from the Gates; she is far too new to know anyone, if there is anyone even left. One thing that does register, however, is the scent of the Valley when it collides with her nostrils like a battering ram. It incites a pause, but she pushes through it albeit at a slower pace. They meet and a chill runs down her spine, but she isn’t sure if it’s because of the cold or because of the stallion’s eeriness. Her nutmeg eyes rake across his antennae, his six legs, his wings, then finally his inky-black compound eyes. ”Hello,” her voice is honeyed and slightly shaken as though not confident about which side she should be on, ”I’m Cerva. Is there anything I can help you with?” She swallows past the lump in her throat as her memories take a brief trip back to her childhood in the Valley.
Cerva