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To say that Atropos was having a terrible day would be a very dangerous understatement. It was bad enough that she had lived so many years in near-solitude, if one could call what she had been doing living. Though the seclusion eased the pain of witnessing the deaths of sentient beings, it was a double-edged sword. Without the companionship of the living, there was nothing to keep her grounded in the real world. The longer she was left alone, the more viciously insanity licked at her hooves. Her moments of lucid rationality were becoming rarer by the day. What made all of this worse were encounters like the one she had experienced earlier that very day.

Oh, it was all well and good for young stallions to test their courage. That was what young stallions did. It was a right of passage. It was not so good when their test involved tracking Atropos down and forcing her to witness their deaths. Especially not when they wanted to hear all about those deaths. Fools. Idiots. Ignorant children. They were lucky she had managed to grasp enough sanity to refrain from doing just that. Did they want to die? If this went on much longer, she swore she would tell them. She would tell them, and she would let death claim them sooner than he was meant to. It would serve them right.

Now, of course, she was working herself up into a fine rage. Her self-control was all but gone. She had loosed her grasp on sanity enough that she might repair it for another day. If she had held on any longer, it would surely have snapped entirely. As it stood, it would be several days before she regained anything resembling controlled rationality.

She had seen this young stallion venture closer and closer to her. She had watched as he sought her out. Was he another thrill-seeker like the others? Was he here to torture her so that he might feel braver? The mare hissed. How dare he! She would make him leave her mountain. She would make him disappear or he would suffer the consequences.

She watched as he stumbled and thought it only fair. He should suffer. He should suffer as they all made her suffer.

"Leave," she hissed, threat and command clear in her voice. However, she did not show herself to him. Her white coat might be easier than most to spot in the night, but she knew her mountain well. She would not let him see her until she was ready.

"Leave now," she demanded, a little louder and more insistent than before. If the mare heard his question, she gave no indication of it. Atropos was not interested in opening a dialogue. She was interested in being left to her solitude to lick her wounds in peace. Failing that, she was interested in personally assuring this trespasser's suffering.

Clearly, this stallion was going to make things difficult. He was not listening. He would not obey. Fine. She would simply have to make him obey.

Without any clear indication of how she got there, Attie appeared before the stallion. She reared, flailing her hooves mere inches from his face. "Go!" She cried. "Get off my mountain. Leave me in peace!"

The mare snorted, more startled than harmed, and danced back a few steps. Talk? All that ever lead to was questions. Generally ones that made people demand to know their death. "No. Get off my mountain and tell your herd to leave me what peace I have left."

"It is far better than having living beings here to torment me, but you surely know that already. Why are you here? Go away!" Why did they all insist on bothering her? She had more than fulfilled her quota of death for the month this day alone. All she wanted was her solitude. Was it too much to ask that she be allowed to lick her wounds in peace? Was fate insisting that she be driven completely over the edge that very night?

Atropos stamped a hoof in her irritation. "There is no tug. Ignore it. Leave it alone. If you don't know already, then ask them. Just leave me alone. I cannot tolerate anymore intruders today." Beneath the anger, there was a despairing desperation. If she were capable, Atropos would be crying in helpless frustration.