The day may have been young or old; she doubted that any of them that resided in the caves knew or cared. Perhaps when they had first arrived in the Sanctuary, they had counted the hours, every slow tick-tock of their biological clock, waited for the sun to rise after a long, fitful sleep. But they would have been disappointed, for there was nothing in the caves but the steady, unwavering glimmers of mushrooms and wall-etchings. There was no sun to call them to rise at the start of a new day, nothing to entice them from slumber and into the warmth of reality. The shadow-mare had only just arrived, and yet she already knew not to expect any more than darkness. But then, she had been one of the tainted, so perhaps she knew best of all. It had been a long time since she had felt any sort of safety, for in all her recent wanderings, she had only just managed to find the freedom of knowledge. She had grown, matured, changed in ways that she was only just beginning to be able to define - but she had never been safe, not really. Hadn't she been running, the whole time? And hadn't her flight from the retribution threatening from her lands led her right into the jaws of the darkness? Wasn't she the one haunted by bleak imaginings wrought by the terrors of the infection?

She didn't sleep anymore, of that she was certain, and so it was with a certain zombie-like apathy that she wandered the halls of the Sanctuary, doing her best to remain unseen. The jackal was surprised to find that she still blended into the shadows, even now when her heart was not tinged with hatred and evil - or perhaps the other inhabitants only saw what they wanted to see. And they most certainly did not want to see the Dark Empress wandering in their midst, not after how long they had hated and feared her. She would have liked to know if they still wished her ill, even after her unceremonious disappearance, but somewhere deep inside she assumed that even without the threat of her army over their heads, they would still love to hate her. Such was the way of the world, it seemed. So rather than thrust herself into the limelight, she hung back, skulking along the edges of their peripherals, hoping that one day soon, the sun would return and she could go back to hiding. The Marsh was even starting to sound appealing. At least there, it was easier to disappear.

A sound piqued her interest and, auds pricked forward, she followed the squalling into the Glowing Room. The soft teal lighting brushed her pelt, almost forcing her ivory markings to glow. Her forelock fell over her left eye, and it almost hid the broken horn that graced her crown from view. She looked over the source of the noise, and she wondered if he would even recognize her anymore, her tell-tale amber eyes lost in the gloom. He was as glorious as ever, of course, even lying on the ground. He gleamed even in this sparse light, thick banner spilling around him as he regarded the source of the sound. She hesitated, watched, and shrugged. Her hoofbeats were soft as she tread lightly across the springy moss, and she came to a halt far enough away not to be deemed a threat. "Someone is hungry, it seems," she said, cocking her head to the side with curiosity. She knows the snowy owl, of course, for he has had her for a while, but the hatchling is obviously quite new.

"Talk talk talk."