She had dedicated much of her time to consideration of the Plague. What would be the most effective way to strike against the Qian? How would it be easiest to destroy the skyrats? The hornless? What should she do with her followers? How should she separate them? They would fare better in groups, she was sure, a group of 'medics' - laughable, really, she should call them poisoners - and a group of soldiers. But what would she do with those who didn't fit into either category? She had some who had no desire to learn the intricacies of poison, but she also has some who were unskilled in the art of warfare. Like Valentine.

Valentine. She sighed. She couldn't decide how she felt about Valentine. She was deeply appreciative of his racism, and she was extremely grateful for not only his loyalty to her cause, but to her. Despite her instincts that screamed not to trust anyone, she found herself more willing to trust him than most. She was even quite fond of him, if she allowed herself to admit it. His complete adoration of her was, at the very least, amusing, and even a bit flattering. Sure, she had had some that had sought to gain her trust by also gaining love - a laughable concept. But Valentine's devotion to her was true, and that was a perplexing concept to the shadow-mare, thought to be incapable of love.

Fond of him as she was, she had long pondered how he would keep an active role within the Plague, but remain safe as well. Safe, and close to her. Weak! she hissed to herself. He is nothing! But it wasn't true. No, she did not love him, in the accepted form of love, but she did care for his well-being, and that was a miracle in and of itself. It was a weakness that she hated herself for, and yet she could not block the feelings that coursed through her veins. It was as though her return, her confrontation with the FrostHeart, her loss of her king had opened gateways that hadn't existed before. Weak! her mind shrieked again, but now there was a shadow of a doubt.

She galloped through the snow, melting now with the approach of Birdsong. The Arch, however, still stood as frozen as ever, and as she arrived, she slowed her pace to a trot which echoed through the long, weaving halls. Her reflection flickered, ever shifting in the icy caverns. Rounding a corner, she caught sight of the ivory stallion that had thrown her emotions into chaos. A low nicker greeted him, along with a smile. It was slightly deranged, as her smiles always were, but it was also touched with a sweetness that wasn't usually present. The little voice in her head screamed at her again, but she silenced it. "Valentine," she greeted him. A simple enough greeting, but it got the point across.

[W/C | 492]