The voice in her head draws her attention firstly down to Dominus, the speaker, then upwards through squinted eyes into the fog. Her muscles tense, her vision unable to pick up what Dominus' superior sense of smell had detected, her own nostrils flaring desperately to try and drag in the scent of the other. Her ears flatten warily, wondering if this innocent training session will turn into a fight for her life, a fight for the Edge, wondering if she might get her chance to defend her home rather sooner than she'd anticipated. The lion growls, his tail swinging between his muscular thighs as he slopes forward like a ghost through the fog, towards the shadow that comes closer, closer...

The voice that rings from the hulking figure is a familiar one, and the soldier finally relaxes. Mauja. Hurriedly composing herself in the hope he won't notice how tense his looming approach had made her - because what sort of warrior tightens up like a cat's arsehole at the first sign of the danger she's meant to conquer? - she fixes one broad blue eye on him, a smile playing at the edges of her blackened lips at his words. "Evil? I'll take that as a compliment." Their conversation comes galloping back into her head - eyeball-feasting owls, casual racism, murder. Initially the spotted stallion and his glass-horned companion had terrified her - as most things did in those days before she grew a set of metaphorical balls - and there's still something about him that unnerves her, that causes a spasm of unease to twist at her gut, something she'll likely never comprehend. She supposes it's only natural - relaxing around somebody who'd been flippantly open about slaughter certainly isn't the smartest idea.

Now he's her king.

Or queen, if what little she'd caught of Black Hottie's words were anything to go by.

The image causes amusement to momentarily dance across the surface of her eyes, but she quickly smothers it. Not the time.

"I was contemplating stabbing some folks while they slept, but changed my mind - effort," she says dryly, before her expression shifts to seriousness. Her ears flicker, one towards him and one towards the growl that's still emenating from Dominus, because giant spotted fog-stallions lurking around his bonded make him deeply concerned. And murderous. She shoots a lion a look that's meant to silence him, but the growl simply gets lower, like a storm crashing in the distance. One final lingering look is given to the feline before she returns her attention to Mauja. "I thought it wise to train in these conditions, so I am better prepared to defend the Edge if ever we're invaded by the sort of asshole that likes to warmonger at this ungodly hour." A shiver wracks her frame as the fog caresses her, because there's a sharpness in the air that indicates winter is on its way. A merciful respite from the pounding sunlight, and yet more differing conditions for the mare to fight in.

That curved brow of hers lifts quizzically as she glances at the spotted one. "And what brings you out at this time, my King?" The word tastes queer on her tongue, and she almost giggles at the delicious irony of racist Mauja ruling a herd of mixed-breeds. Some God had a twisted sense of humour.

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@[Mauja]

Ja that's fine to assume ^^

0/3 - words