From the mountain Diana can see the comet the moment it breaks the atmosphere. It's small for a meteor, a strange metallic colour which shines silver in the light of the slowly rising sun. Fire snarls around it, roaring louder and more violently with increasing speed and volume.
It's heading straight for Midvale.
Diana wants to curse. Its only dawn, but the mountain is still crawling with people who want to avoid the intensity of the midday summer sun. A middle-aged couple are ambling up the path only a few metres ahead, discussing the pros and cons of marshmallows as a breakfast food; behind her she can hear the vague chatter of a school group.
The comet is still gaining speed, and now she can make out the glint of glass and metal - it isn't a comet at all. She's never seen anything like it - shaped and sleek, clearly designed for travel over great distances. Such an elegant object should surely move with more grace; instead it spins, tumbling in freefall without any sign of control.
She's still dressed in her civilian clothes, and of course this is the one time she decided to leave her costume in France. It's been two years since she came out of retirement to stop Slipknot, and the world has been as quiet as the world of men can ever be. She's not the only superhero in the world anymore, what with the appearance of that obnoxiously brightly-coloured man in Metropolis and the whispered rumours of a bat man patrolling the streets of Gotham. She's allowed herself to relax, to take a step back, letting the weight of the world rest on younger, less weary shoulders.
The couple disappear around a bend in the tree-clad path, and before she can think better of it Diana launches herself into the air.
She hasn't flown in a long time - hasn't allowed herself to - and the feeling takes her breath away. The wind tugs at her hair, whilstling past her ears like a whisper. At that exact moment the sun crests on the horizon, drowning the world in a dazzling pink-tinged light reflected off the side of every building in the city.
In moments like this, Diana almost feels like she's home.
The crack and roar of fire streaking across the sky breaks the illusion of peace. The ship has reached its terminal velocity, flames streaming out behind it like a tail. She has seconds to intervene before it crashes into the town hall.
In the end she guides it in the direction of the mountain. It groans, as if pushing against her efforts. Fire licks at her arms, but she barely feels the heat, barely notices as the sleeves of her clothes begin to smoke. The descent is entirely out of her control now, and it's all she can do to cling to the metal of the ship as they tumble.
She lets go at the last second, crashing straight into a tree. Cracks echo in her ears like blasts of lightning as the branches snap under her weight, wood scratching at her now-bare arms.
She comes to a stop, finally, hitting the earth with a thud. The breath vanishes from her lungs, a huge branch pinning her chest and impaling her stomach, and for a few seconds all she can do is lie there, desperately trying to regain her senses. She can't recall the last time her body ached quite this much - every limb and joint feels like lead, weighted and unmovable. It takes every ounce of her strength to shove the branch away from her; it goes flying down the hill.
After a few tries she manages to tug the snapped wood from her stomach. The hole left behind is a gaping red chasm that makes her shudder - it hurts to move and breathe - but it will heal quickly. She tears a strip from the bottom of her ruined shirt, tying it tightly around her torso. In seconds the material is soaked, but it will have to suffice; suddenly she can hear screams. They split the air, ringing and weighted with more grief and pain than Diana can bear to listen to.
They're coming from the same direction as the ship.
Diana's heart plunges, her body frozen in shock. This forest is private property, clustered at the bottom of the mountain - there shouldn't be anyone here.
And yet there is.
She makes it to the clearing in a matter of seconds. It's more a crater than a clearing, the mud and earth displaced easily on impact. The trees surrounding it are singed or smouldering, the ones under it flattened and splintered; they didn't stand a chance.
Now that it's stationary Diana can see the clear craftsmanship of the not-meteor. Despite its horrific arrival, and her own attempts to alter its course, the outside is pristine but for a few soot marks. It's shape is streamlined, made of a silver metal Diana can't quite identify. The glass set into the top half of it is fogged up with black, but she can still make out the vague flickering of movement within.
The screaming comes again - from inside the pod.
She jumps into the crater, then hesitates. She has no idea what could reside inside this tiny, inocuous, destructive ship. It is undoubtedly alien, and she has seen enough in the past few years to know that not all who visit this planet come in peace. The thing inside could be dangerous - it could put humanity at risk.
Nothing that dangerous could have a scream so heartbreaking.
Diana curls her fingers into the glass, hooking them around a tendril of metal and wrenching. It takes a tremendous amount of strength, but eventually the metal gives way and snaps. She throws it away behind her.
She doesn't know what she was expecting to find inside. A creature of some kind, with green skin or two heads, maybe. Human pop culture has influenced her more than she would like to admit.
She definitely isn't expecting this.
The girl inside the pod can't be older than thirteen human years. Diana can see the girl's body is thin and malnourished, even obscured as it is by the loose, pristine white dress she's wearing, curled in on herself and shaking with violent sobs. A curtain of straight red hair obscures her face; small hands clutch at her ears in pain.
With no glass between them the screams are infinitely louder, and Diana can feel her heart fracturing with every second.
She kneels, unsure of what else to do, and reaches a hand out to - she's not sure what. Comfort the girl? Let her know she's not alone?
Whatever her intentions are, they don't matter, as the second her fingers make contact with the girl's bare skin she freezes, her head shooting up to look at Diana with piercing blue eyes. There's a chasmic depth to those eyes that makes her want to shiver - eyes she recognises from the mirror every morning, eyes that can't - shouldn't - exist on a girl so young.
"Ta- tanahn rip?" The girl stumbles in her words, sobs still spasming in her lungs, but Diana has enough experience with language to know from the way her mouth forms the syllables, the way they slip off her tongue like water, that this is her native language.
But to Diana they're nothing but sounds.
It throws her momentarily. She's never encountered a language she can't speak; this girl's language is alien to her in more ways than one.
She moves slowly, wary of startling the girl, whose body now shivers with tension as the crying subsides, and puts her hand on her chest. "I am Diana."
The girl blinks, eyes wide and flickering between the hand on Diana's chest and her face. "Die-anna," she says slowly, rolling the syllables slowly. Then she puts her own hand on her chest. "Khap nahn Kara Zor-El."
"Kara?" Diana asks, picking out the one word from the girl's sentence which sounds most like a name and hoping for the best. "That's a beautiful name."
The ship whirrs and beeps suddenly, startling both Diana and the girl, who after a second of hesitation tears her eyes away from Diana to look at the screen in front of her. Symbols flash and fly, strangely shaped characters Diana can't understand.
Her eyes are drawn to the one she does recognise, emblazoned in relief on Kara's chest: the symbol of Metropolis' resident alien superhero, Superman. Shaped like an S inside a diamond, it's hard to forget.
Her thoughts are distracted when the ship starts speaking. "Iwahzrham," the voice is crackling and full of static. "Rth Ehngiuo."
Things begin flashing on the screen again, and Diana realises with a start that they're no longer alien to her - they're English. The information flashes almost faster than she can comprehend, but Kara's eyes flicker back and forth across the screen with incredible speed.
As soon as the stream of information ends, the screens going black with a quick, unhealthy-sounding fizz, Kara blinks, wiping her eyes and sniffing before looking up at Diana. "I... I am Kara Zor-El, of Krypton."
The words are fractured and awkward in her mouth, but they're English. Diana stares at the girl, unable to quite comprehend what has just happened.
"What is Krypton?" she asks, shoving her amazement down so as not to frighten the girl - she knows well enough what it's like to be watched like a freak of nature, a dancing mokey in front of a circus audience.
"My home." Kara says slowly. She begins to stand up, but her legs shake and give way under her. Diana reaches out instinctively, holding the girl up. Lifting her out of the pod, she sets her down gently to sit on its lip.
"Your planet?" Kara nods. "Are you okay?"
Kara cocks her head to the side for a second. "My body is not impaired."
Diana decides not to push - she can easily hear the tremor in Kara's voice, and there's a fragility to her figure, on a knife edge between stability and shattering into a million pieces. "Can I help you?" she asks instead.
"I must find my cousin. I am here to protect him."
"Your cousin?"
"Kal-El."
The name sounds familiar, ringing bells somewhere in Diana's head, the answer just out of reach. Before she can voice her suspicions, however, she hears the tell-tale screech of sirens in the distance, the rhythmic, struggling roar of engines speeding uphill.
Kara flinches, clasping her hands over her ears as she looks wildly around her. "Iovis ulahdh," her voice breaks with pain. "That sound. It's so- loud."
"Come with me." Diana reaches her hand out. "I can take you somewhere safe. We can find your cousin." She's not sure what's possessing her to do this, but this girl is alone and scared. Tragedy and heartbreak seem to be sewn into her very bones; every move is weighted with a grief-filled heaviness, yet at the same time a strange lightness, as if each takes her by surprise. Diana can't simply leave her to fend for herself.
Kara doesn't even hesitate, taking hold of Diana's hand instantly. Her grip is strong, clutching like a lifeline - Diana is pretty sure her bones would be cracking, splintering into shards under the pressure, if she was human.
"Hold on," she warns Kara. Just as the first emergency vehicles crest the lip of the creator, Diana launches the two of them into the air.