Off the edge of the map

You gotta have the patience and believe you're gonna make it
Gotta hold on

It was the same vicious cycle all over again, with nothing learned and nothing gained from the scars of the past. Over and over again they subjected each other to the same pain and frustration, and for what? Only more bitterness, only more inflamed wounds to pride and honor as they remained unable to let things go.

But Erthë was not the same as she had been before. Grief and experience had hardened her, body and soul, like soft iron wrought into steel in the forge of life, and the mare that spun around on light feet and charged after Rikyn with eyes as hard as any diamond was not the little girl that had run away crying from their last fight. Power surged in her veins now, more potent than ever before and this time she did not hesitate before she turned it on him. Paying kindness with kindness would only ever work if both parties were kind, and she found none of that within the pig-headed stallion.

The constant rain that dampened the ground and filled the air with damp moisture made this dreary season the ultimate weapon for the little mare. With a swell of energy she turned up the temperature of the liquids in the air around Rikyn, from lukewarm rain to scalding hot steam in the blink of an eye.

"Who's the hypocrite here!?" she snarled, as she tried to race past him and cut his progress off. Ivory teeth lashed out at his face; she was too angry for mere magic to be entirely satisfying. "I am facing the problem, the fucking problem of being trapped in a fucked up world because I was too naive to recognize a lie for what it was. Kisamoa lied to us, Rikyn, to all of us and if you think that he will never do that again you are not just blind, you are stupid too! I was going to walk away because your thick-headed idiocy was giving me a headache, but now I think I will stay, and you will stay here too until you realize that I am not the enemy here!"

And if that meant she would have to kick his ass to the ground and shove it down his throat, Erthë would be more than happy to oblige. She was tired of stallions who tried to walk all over her, tired of being lost and frightened and sad. Anger was a sweet relief from all that, and she clung to it with bleeding hands as it if were the last straw that might save her from madness.

I know you're tired of surviving but you gotta keep on trying
Hold on!

@Rikyn