Mauja Frosthjärta

A cry woke him with a start.

White limbs twitched and snapped close to his barrel, his weight already halfway off the ground before he properly woke up. His heart was pounding and his head was swimming; he nearly pitched nosefirst back down onto the moss, but somehow caught himself and forced his shoulder to lean against the fortunately robust tree next to him.

His pulse was pounding painfully in his skull. What a damned way to wake up.

Mauja gulped down the strange air. He still wasn't quite used to the strange blend of moist freshness and the natural stagnancy of caves, but it was soothing on his healing skin. Blearily he blinked, and looked about himself in the odd light. He could never decide if it was half-light or half-dark. It reminded him of twilight and stars at the same time, but if he looked closely, it was clearer.. small, bright dots of light. Gingerly, he tipped his head from side to side to try and clear it. Any larger movement set the pounding pain off, and he tried to avoid it best as he could. Glanced up instead. Irma was peering through the leaves, but couldn't see the source of the scream even from her vantage point. Neither of them could smell blood, so whatever it was.. maybe someone had just been startled?

A small white mare passed in front of him, quietly picking her path through the damp moss, but quite intent on where she was going. She was the most interesting thing to watch at the moment, and his pulse was still too rapid to let him go back to sleep. Besides, he was covered in a fever sweat again, and to go wash it off in the creek or waterfall was tempting. Irma and the egg were safe in their tree anyway. But to start walking would send his head pounding again.. but maybe it'd be worth it... Besides, he could stop and eat somewhere else on the way back, and leave his own poor patch be. Groaning inwardly, Mauja hauled himself away from the tree, and gingerly began to pick his way towards the waterfall, incidentally following in the general direction of the dainty white mare. For lack of a better thing to do, he watched her with dull interest, until she stuck her head through a bush. At that, Mauja stopped in his tracks, and peered curiously at her. That was.. a strange thing to do. And as if that wasn't enough, she started talking, quite excitedly, and Mauja, baffled, moved forward, and skirted around the bush. Even stepped into the river-shallows to see who she was talking to.

And saw Kahlua.

The white mare had moved closer and blabbered on about not having horns, but Mauja just stood and stared dumbly at the black and white tobiano. Was she the one who had screamed? The white one seemed to think so. But they didn't know one another, obviously, and he was sick and tired and hung back. If it wasn't because he'd stepped into plain sight he probably would've slipped away to find the waterfall, guiltily glad to know she was safe, and then returned to his corner to recuperate and ponder the strange turn his life had taken, and whoever else might have survived the shadow. He'd not been strong enough to go looking, and with the close quarters, knew that it was just a matter of time before anyone from the Basin ran across him. And then, gods knew what would happen.

"Kahlua," he said gently, wearily; he was not the epitome of majesty and grace anymore, but worn and sick with fever from exhaustion and his partly-healed wounds. Still, a small smile found its way onto his dark lips, his throbbing head thankful for the excuse to stand still for a while.

A million miles from home, I'm frozen to the bones, I am... a soldier on my own, I don't know the way.