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Ophelia's ears dipped toward Mauja and concerned curiosity crossed her features. While the crimson and pale mare knew that she was not perfect, she could honestly say that she had never double crossed or back stabbed anyone she considered to be her friend. Kri might feel differently, but Ophelia had to do what was right for her. The fact no one in the herd had paid attention to the fact that the twins had this devilish, uneducated power seemed... not right. And the fact that the sleuth had to figure out by having her identity stolen was even worse. She missed her friends there, but she did not miss the desert. She missed the responsibility, but she did not miss the chaos of being in a herd. Too many faces and too many memories. Out here, the wind-blow snow and luminous stars filled her mind with calm and peace.
Who would backstab Mauja? Her father ran the Foothills, and from Ktulu's memories, Kri was the first leader he had visited. Knowing her father's often superstitious and unwavering ways, she doubted that he would choose to visit the Ice King of his own accord. Gossamer had disappeared. "Who double crossed you?" she asked, feeling a spark of anger ignite in her soul for him. A flash of righteous anger burned in her two colored eyes, and her expression grew stern. Perhaps one day, with this much confidence and fire, Ophelia could be someone great. But for now, she was content to a life of solitude and simplicity - alone with her thoughts.
A small smile returned to his features when he promised to take care of his legs, and she nodded in response. She was pleased that he was taking her advice to care for his already battle-worn figure. Then, she moved to the mouth of the cave as Tor was speaking. The older, stone and snow mare moved past, thick feathering and a draft coat bristling with the chilled wind. Stars shed dancing light upon her figure, and Ophelia thought that she was truly beautiful in that moment. Tor was a recovering healer, a selfless creature who had taken the responsibility upon herself to save the life of one who live amongst the hateful. Certainly the heavens would smile down upon her generosity.
Ophelia felt Mauja's presence move near her own, the heat of his body warming the air around her by a few degrees. She noticed these little things - these small details that normally escaped the minds of many. Still, her gaze was set forward to the horizon, watching the lights of the universe shine. The snow fell in soft pearls of crystal, their life in the air brief and beautiful before joining their kin on the perfect floor. Already the wind had swept most of the healer's prints away, leaving only a memory as evidence of her time. Wind brushed the crimson and pale forelock from her face and played on the thick, white lashes that caught the snow and protected her bright and reflective eyes. The red, crimson orb on her right cast the night sky in a haze of violence and bloodshed - beautiful and terrible, but the blue was peaceful. An ocean of stars were illuminated in the blue.
White breath puffed past her lips, and Ophelia brushed her tail around her hocks, feeling light and free. This was a memory she chose to remember, for once. As she stood here, the presence of another by her side and under the blanket of this glorious night, she realized that she never wanted to forget this moment, and she was glad that she never would. The mare's eyes closed, and she inhaled deeply upon the wind, face relaxed in complete serenity. Upon exhale, she opened her eyes, renewed. "Mauja, I am sorry for what I said when I trespassed on your boders," she told him honestly, finally turned her gazed to his orbs of ice. "My words were hateful and wrong. I was bitter, angry and upset, and I took all of those emotions out on what you held so dear. I then had the gall to be frustrated with you when you and yours took action against my slights. I was a fool." She cast her gaze down to her cloven toes before looking once more at the horizon. Her heart urged her hooves forward.
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