Lochan had woken a little earlier than usual, in part at Ashamin's insistence. There is still sun to see, the painted buck had urged with a grin. Come, we must spend at least some time in this dying light.

Dying light. How fitting, after the dream the stallion had grappled with the night prior. Ashamin was lucky he did not remember its horrors, yet. He would have been thankful, had he known what he was missing in his memory.

Time would fill that gap for him, but for Lochan the dream was still real, still there, and still very much a nightmare. Maybe that was why the cerndyr rose to follow Ashamin, now. Maybe the thought of harm coming to his bonded in that dying light of day spurred him forth to follow and wake, even in the day that stained his eyes with spots of exhaustion.

The journey out into the steppe was brief, given the proximity of the Haruspex's cave to the border, and they were just able to catch the glimmer of the sun setting behind the mountains in the distance of the steppe. Ashamin nickered to his inexplicably glum companion, nudging him with the soft velvet of his own nose. Was this not Lochan's first clear sight of the sunset? And the painting of red on the white sheets of ice, was that not a beautiful sight?

But Lochan, three eyes scrunched, saw only blood on the water. He turned, as if to return to the Basin and sleep, with his head low and his young heart already so heavy.

But Ashamin was quicker. His black eyes had surveyed the scene as Lochan had begun his departure, and the haruspex had just enough speed in him to note and call out to the filly in the distance before gripping Lochan's scruff gently in his teeth and placing him among the tinder scraps in his sarong.

"Young one, hello there!"

Though distance lay between them, he could tell that the figure's small size was not due to the gap. She was young--just a child, wandering in the steppe. He wasn't about to let that happen without any sort of supervision, particularly not as night and--he shuddered--wolves approached with such speed. Ashamin quickened his pace, ignoring the kicking of Lochan struggling against his chest. Already the cenrdyr's legs hung over the edges of the cloth, too long and gangly for their container. The haruspex grew closer to the filly in the distance, seeing the silhouettes of three horns from behind and watching as they and the sound of laughter faded and lowered into a position of mournful repose.

It was only when he drew closer that he saw her face and the curse she had been born with. Blindness: three horns, young grace, and the darkness of never seeing this red-white world of snow.

""

[[@[Himitsu] YOU ARE STUCK WITH ME I LOVE YOUR CHARS NO SHAME]]