The next day, Clearwing gathered the herd together. “Desert Herd steeds have been discovered on the borders of Sun Herd land. This is a challenge. Our spies say they are planning to attack in a moon. We must prepare.” This statement caused a wave of murmuring through the herd.
“Do you think Deathwing will defeat them?” Grassfeather asked.
“No!” Stormfrost answered. Grassfeather didn’t understand the true danger of Deathwing. He thought it was cool; a good weapon for Sun Herd. All he saw in Stormfrost was Deathwing’s vessel. Sometimes, Stormfrost thought that she should just run away from him. But he was her only friend. Stormfrost thought about the upcoming war. Deathwing would be a formidable weapon, sure, but it fed on carnage and death. She was worried it would take her over completely. Stormfrost shook her head. She needed to stop thinking about this. Deathwing could be conquered! She just didn’t know how to. This war would be dangerous. So Stormfrost made a decision. She would tell somebody.
Later that day, Stormfrost approached the medicine mare, Ashroot. “I have something you need to cure me of,” Stormfrost said.
“That’s what I’m for, isn’t it,” Ashroot said. “Tell me.”
“I think I’m being possessed,” Stormfrost said. Ashroot’s eyes widened until the whites were showing.
“What?” she whispered.
“I’m being possessed,” Stormfrost repeated. “By a steed that calls itself Deathwing.” Ashroot drew in a sharp breath.
“This is bad,” Ashroot said. “Do you know the tales of Nightwing?” Stormfrost nodded. “Well, there’s an old mares’ tale, that speculates that the reason Nightwing became the Destroyer, is because he was touched by an evil spirit called Deathwing, that poisoned his thoughts when he got the starfire. They say there is only one way to get rid of it.”
“What’s that?” Stormfrost asked.
“To give it what it wants.”