The stranger that Thranduil has brought to her on this afternoon was a special one, she could tell instantly in the way he let his eyes follow her slow and hungry before his mouth parts and he sweeps her away in all the grand vocalizations known to wrap around the psyche of such women as she, things that make her like him instantaneously, even forgetting that the golden stallion gave her no reply to her prod at his ego in the swoon that rises in the flowing complements that besiege her.

Why couldn’t more of them be like this? All those tales of failed living arrangements and jilted members were more easily avoided if one used their brain like this man. Surely, not all of it is as true as she wants it to be, a ruse in part for her interest and concern for a new arrival to a fold obviously vast and numerous – and while she knows these things, she still lets her ego purr and croon at what he offers its clutching fingers, her smile broad and her eyes twinkling merrily.

His services, when offered, do not immediately leap forth at her in many ways other than that of the soldier – the walk that she had made, one of glory and struggle, of conquest and fame, but all her kin seem fitted to this position for the weapons adorning their brows. She had learned a long while ago that a sword did not a swordsman make, however, and so she instead lets her dark tail swish quietly behind herself as her features take on a more serious light than her amused revelry.

And what skills are those, sir…? she bends two questions in one, realizing she hadn’t a name to call her new pet in just enough time for the first roar to cloud the distance, for the sounds of the avalanche of animals to touch her ears and pull her golden eyes away from the pair before her.

And when she does, horror finds purchase where cool, grinning collection is normally in place, her ears slipping down and her lips growing slack as she spies the dark cloud of birds that roar over the treetops, that snake atop the mountain peaks – and the dark figure of the herd that gallops, that runs, that flees, and it wreaks of death and fear.

Its intoxicating, contagious; the Gilded Blade snorts heavily and dances to the side, all thoughts on impressing the two men forgotten in her desperate need to survive.

We need to go, my friends, she says, sharp and whip-like each commanding word; to her relied upon spy, she turns first, hard east, to the caverns. Drag all you see along with you to their shelter – keep an eye on the new one, he knows not where to go but for our guidance. A last, desperate glance is given her beautiful sentinel, a hope that he and his forming sibling will survive the rush of animals that closes in nearer and nearer from the distance, the stench of terror and blood thick across the cool mountain air.

And then she is running, as fast as she can go, calling out as she darts across the valley her cries of warning, the occasional verbal cue for the unicorns to go right or left, to increase pace or to round a hillock rather than cresting it. She hopes they hear her, her “loved” ones, her kin, and that they might find safety in the face of such danger pressing in upon them.

She thinks of many things – she must find Deimos, where is her Rikyn? Can Zikar call their God down to offer guidance? Will the animals charge through the caverns as well as across the land? And what of Aithniel, is she safe, is she fine?

She worries for them all, each face she recalls as she runs, though it is an odd taste in her mouth and fear laces each gliding step out towards the large healer’s cave to the east, the only place that would hold so many unicorns in one location. She has a plan, once they get there, which involves shoving the weaker members back into the stone and ringing the effacements with warriors and able bodied men and women, to fight back any animals that stray to near their place of defense.

She can think of at least twenty strong, not including their companions or magical skills. She has good faith that a tumultuous stampede will not bring her or her kin down on this day.

It is the worry of what chases the animals that leaves her wondering, that darkens her hope.


[ OOC: Running to the Healer's Cave ~ looks like we'll be having an emergency herd meeting. xD Just talked to Tamme, and this only effects our thread <3 Just a rather sudden location change rofl ]