She slowly surfaced from the eternal darkness of a peaceful dream, the details slipping from her grasp as sand on a beach does. A strain of music looped through her mind in the remnants of the dream, but she couldn't clutch it to see which one it was. Most mornings she would shoot straight up in bed in an attempt to keep herself from falling back to sleep and being late, but as her wits returned to her, she continued to lie there with eyes closed. Her heart rate began to climb from its slow, calmed state to the point that she could hear the blood pulsing through her veins. She prayed to any gods that may exist. She willed it with every fiber of her body. It had to be May 3. It had to be.

She swallowed hard, the lack of moisture in her mouth from sleep causing the movement to be difficult. Every so slowly she allowed her eyes to slip open, blinking away the film in front of her eyes as her vision cleared. She stared at the familiar pale blue ceiling, the one her father had painted for her as a baby. He wanted her to feel like the sky was above her, shining and bright even in moments of darkness.

Well, this was a dark moment. She willed it, once more, to be May 3, praying to the pale sky colored paint that had begun to peel in places over the years. Surely some of horse nature could be channeled to make sure it was May. It had to be. She had finished. She had finished so many times.

She quivered as she rolled from the bed, nearly smacking her head against her night table before she caught herself and stood up straight. She stretched, postponing her glance at the calendar beside her bed. She was terrified. What if it wasn't May? What if it was September, again?

Only now did she realize the irony of the song she had been dreaming about. She couldn't help but sing out a bar, barely moving her lips and exhaling ever so slightly to whisper, "Wake me up when September ends." When would these September awakenings cease? Hopefully now, but… No. It had to be now. She was sure. Steadying herself and clutching the edge of her bed spread so tightly the blood retreated from her knuckles, her eyes slowly shifted to the calendar.

It was so innocent. A calendar covered with flowers that a friend had gotten her as a gag gift for her birthday. With a small flower adorning the day, she gazed at the date. Her eyes unfocused as tears dripped down her face, and she quietly restrained a sob, the hand that had been clutching the comforter moving to clutch at her mouth.

September 1. She was going to start at Iris Academy today. Again. After all the effort she'd put in. After the blood, sweat, and tears she'd shed, the universe still refused to let it be May.

She flung herself onto the bed, weeping as quietly as she could into the pillow. For a split second the idea of suffocating herself ran through her mind, seductively suggesting that she'd never have to see this again. She used this to lever herself out of this negative spiral, letting her complete rejection of the idea motivate her to stop the tears entirely.

She hadn't been declared a horse without reason. Even if this would continue to happen, she would find a way to get out. She would find a way to leave the loop and continue. Somehow she'd awaken in May, and a no self-respecting horse would stop until then.

She quietly padded to the bathroom, carefully avoiding her parents' bedroom door and scrubbing her face clean as soon as she entered, soothing herself with the heat of the water. She glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought that the red rimming of her eyes was like the rest of her face, slightly pink from the intensity of the cleaning. Brushing her teeth, she took a deep breath through her nose and steadied herself for what was to come.

Rinsing out her mouth from the toothpaste, she spit into the sink the same way a pro boxer spits blood. Her head snapped up, staring herself dead in the eye. With as much force as she could muster at such a low volume, she stated to herself, "You will find a way. You will get out of this." The sureness of the girl in the mirror almost convinced her that she was right; she would find a way out.

The key word was almost.

But, before she went to school, she decided to make this year a little different from the rest. She gazed at her reflection, or rather the reflection of her long, waist length brown hair. It was slightly straighter than it used to be because it had finally gotten to the length where its own weight had caused it to transition from curly to wavy.

She grabbed a pair of scissors from inside a nearby drawer along with a hair tie. Deciding she'd clean up the ends and make things look pretty later, she pulled her hair back into a low ponytail, brought the scissors back, and… Snip. With that lock of hair she detached all of the sorrow, all of the regret, all of the failure. She stared down hardened brown eyes. She was ready.

She was a wildseed who would be moving into the Horse hall this year as a freshman. She had brown eyes and shoulder length curly brown hair. Once upon a time, she would have collided with a certain strict teacher. She would have gazed upon the buildings in wonder. She would have reveled in the fresh, clean air on a bright end of summer day, becoming just distracted enough accidentally encounter him.

But she wasn't that girl anymore. She had changed. Successive years had transformed her from a once ditzy schoolgirl to a reserved scholar. She felt vulnerable without her glasses on, but she knew she could buy a pair from the mall in a couple of weeks. Until then, she'd just have to deal with it.

On this day, she whisked by the male teacher, not even sparing him a glance as she made her way to her dorm room. He didn't glance at her either, and they both went on their ways. Once upon a time, she'd collided and found herself in trouble. Once upon a time, she'd thought he was completely unreasonable for giving ten demerits for a simple slip up.

But she wasn't that girl. That girl was clueless and naïve. She was ready for anything this school could throw at her and then some. She was ready for the school year to begin and no one—nothing either—was going to stop her in her journey. With the diary in her bag, she entered the halls of Iris Academy.