It had been natural for her to be a mother; to be the strong one, the care taker and leader of her loved ones. The one that could make things well in the end. With the shaking of her very foundation she was sadly left in no position to maintain this title; someone else would need to be the strong one. It was not, however, for lack of trying on Frolic's part, for her mind was ever in upheaval as she attempted to gain her hooves once again.
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So was her turmoil that, for a time, she was honestly insane.

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She is still broken, to my measuring. She stands now within the lush, dense rain forest she has claimed in my realm, half hidden behind the great leaves of a giant flower; leaves sturdy enough to support the weight of a newborn foal. Frolic watches with one eye, never daring to come too close and yet fearing my retreat. She knows herself a little, now; which foods she prefers, her favorite ways to play within the lush greenery as the storms sprinkle, sprinkle, sprinkle new life and hope upon her home. Her heart is naturally light and she can easily find the joy and playfulness in life, when she is sturdy enough on her own hooves to do so. More, she is a solidly built mare and highly adept at fighting; a natural mother and protector, in all truth, and a natural friend to any foal.

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Yet still, her family is lost to her. The ache from this loss weighs upon her to such an extent that she rarely dares leave the protective covering of her home. The depression coats her so heavily that she can hardly lift her head to speak to any who visit; though all of those bonded to me have attempted to comfort, aid or otherwise befriend her.

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It is beyond me, how she may be helped. She is not unable to see the joys around her or to even find peace in finally knowing her own self. She is not blind to life.

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The pain of her loss is simply greater than the joy she finds in living.

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Each day she awaits my visit, for each day it must be seen rather she has grown any stronger... Or if upon this rise of the two suns, my poor mare has weakened still more. Her voice, a beautiful, tinkling sound that very much mimics the rains upon the leaves, can at times be heard still as she sings with the storm to the frightened babes huddled in the trees. Though encouraging, these moments are frighteningly rare; there are some days where she can not be coaxed to utter even a single sound, a true shame as her voice is music in itself.

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Until some resolution is found for this great loss she has suffered, it is my deepest fear that she may never again learn true peace.

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Hopefully today she will at least allow me to approach her enough to soothe her pains for the night. She will be spared the nightmares if she can stop herself from shying away.

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Bless her poor broken heart.

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---

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Caustic, our resident Death Bringer has managed what no other has; he has brought change into Frolic's heart. By his nature his very presence in her forest has stripped her of absolutely everything. Every sense of identity, every layer of thought or perception that had been what made Frolic our TigerLily was destroyed. He left her nothing other than the very base core of her being, the hard, instinctive steel that is every creature's foundation. In many ways this has been both a blessing and a curse.

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She is free of her pain; finally, blessedly free. TigerLily's sense of identity was destroyed, and so her own self image being tied so heavily to her past is no longer an issue. She acknowledges neither ties nor loyalties from The Time Before, and so her broken bonds no longer weaken her. Everything that had once defined her, everything that was of her family, Circle, or history, was completely wiped out. Every layer was stripped away, piece by piece, eaten by his acidic personality until she had no hopes, no dreams, no desires, for she held no sense of self. Listlessness soon faded into a cold, hard detachment. Those things which she naturally enjoyed, such as her tiger lily flowers, still please her; those which had been enjoyed for other, more sentimental reasons now have no meaning for her.

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It is difficult to translate the essence of this sensation into this method of communication. Essentially, she was left with nothing, given nothing, through her continuous exposure to this stallion; nothing more than sheer existence. From this most base and primal state of being she raised her head once again, having no self-identity nor history nor even heart of her own left to her. What had once been softened by layer upon layer of all those things which had once comprised her personality was left raw with a dull anger; a fierce and merciless will to survive, a bestial strength that demoralizes. There are no pet peeves, no tender joys, nothing to comprise her beyond this raging strength. She was left raw, given nothing, completely denied all but sheer survival.

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It has given TigerLily a chance to stand up and place her history, her losses, in the past. She is able to move forward now without being hindered by the weight of what had once been, nor even the desire to recapture it in some form. She is strong enough for this now, freed of her burden, and determined to begin living in earnest. Yet the determination is a hard thing, a cruel thing. There are no other aspects of personality with which to wrap and thus blunt her will, thus making her nearly as caustic as Caustic himself. Yet there is hope.

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While her heart rages with cold survival, she rebuilds herself piece by piece. She wanders, socializes, and discovers new aspects of what pleases or displeases, what makes her smile or pins her ears flat. Slowly, she is regaining a sense of self, learning what she has become. The ability to merely sit and talk eludes her still; she is too raw for that as of yet. She is hard. She is restless. And yet with each experience she grows a little more, learns the boundaries of her patience, the company she wishes to have, the games she chooses to play. Frolic is rediscovering herself, finding out who she is, little by little. It will be a very long process; yet now, at the least, she has a chance to begin the quest.

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The time she spends at home is rare now and different. She has discovered certain areas that grow in unique layers, allowing her to climb all the way up to the canopy of her rain forest. She enjoys sitting high up in the trees and savoring the differences, yet still prefers the damp dimness of the ground level. Most of her time at home is passed by sleeping; Frolic knows every plant, every sound and scent of this land and for the moment it holds little charm for her, having acted as her self-imposed prison for so long. And still, once a day she will stop and gaze at something - a flower, a rustle in the branches of a tree, the direction of a soft breeze that stirred fresh scents - and a soft smile will flicker across her hard face and brighten her eyes. Some of her old joys are stirring, reawakening, and she is wise enough to allow them to come in their own time; she comes home only when she feels the urge to, never before. Bone weary and travel worn, the relief and pleasure at her familiar forest always lightens my heart, for as long as she appreciates coming home her spirit has not been entirely lost. Some small piece must have remained, nestled within the steel of her core; a fragment of who she was, as ingrained within her as the hardness which defines most of her features.

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Only time will reveal how much will change for her.

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---

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TigerLily has reached a healthy balance that makes my heart swell for her. She enjoys visiting her family, changed as they are, broken as their souls have been; and enjoys more the benefits of being a grandmare. It is rare for her to see them and yet she has found that even her mate Spin is as deeply changed as their relationship. They are all rediscovering one another, with small comforts being found in those pieces of who they once were that still remain.

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She loves to travel the forests and play in the dappled light, flinging herself into beds of moss and chasing the fireflies. Solitude is not boring for her, yet company is always welcome. She is often seen seeking out her zen; she hears the silence while the land sings to her. Her various spikes have found new use as well, with those of her hooves aiding in various climbing endeavors; the deadly ones from her hocks have saved her from falling more than once.

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New friends and a renewed joy in life and all there is to discover have recaptured the playful spirit she was once known for. She will play tag with butterflies and sing the suns to sleep, only to wander as far as the horizon will take her the next morning. New friends and old joys, quiet peace and the laughter of life are all spiraling through her days in an endless dance.

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She knows that there is so much to discover still, and yet each day she stops to listen to what is already there. She has become as her forest home is; knowing the sounds in deep silence, the motion within stillness, ever-active and yet always in a peaceful rest.

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Frolic has finally come home to herself.