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I'm no hero and I'm not made of stone

Of course he heard her. She should have known that hiding was futile, that it was impossible to mask her presence from one so powerful. For he was, though it rankled to admit it, and Erthë had to dig deep for every ounce of courage and fortitude she possessed to remain defiant as Kaos returned her sentiments with equal amounts of venom. The insults merely added kindle to the burning fire of her hatred, but for once she refrained from acting on the impulse to leap at the throat of the deceiver, perhaps realizing the futility of it. Or, perhaps it was Volterra's mumbled words in her ear that distracted her just enough to save her life, enough that she was able to merely press her lips together and raise the head in a proud, almost haughty gesture of defiance as she refrained from rising at the bait.

"Let us all hope that 'some day' will not be too late" she replied without turning, speaking quietly so that only Volterra would hear. "I will need to speak with you, someplace where others will not overhear... Come find me at that crystal cave by the sea when you can, if you mean what you just said."

Sparing the black stallion a quick, tense smile, Erthë lingered only for as long as Kisamoa forced his presence upon them. Then, as the demon left and rain came rushing down again to soak the feathers that had not even had a chance to dry, the little mare left the group and merged back into the forest, draping darkness about her like a cloak.

This was not over. It was only the beginning, and she would not allow threats stop her from doing what she had to do.

Right or wrong, I can hardly tell
I'm on the wrong side of heaven and the righteous side of hell

Image Credit

@Volterra