He was drawn in by the sound of battle.

Any other time he might have turned tail and ran, because the place and the hum of magic in the air was much too similar to one he had seen before. Or perhaps that was precisely why he didn't run.

Once in his life, not so long ago, he had fled from battle. One time, in a moment where his own life had been far more precious than anything else in the world. He had escaped without a scratch, and the price had been payed by someone else.

Could a person loathe themselves any more than he did now? He felt as though every word his sultana had said was bouncing around within his skull, carving into his heart and bending his spine until it ought to snap beneath the weight of guilt. Shame, blame, disgust - he had never felt cowardly before, but now he did. They called him coward and that must mean that he was one. Who else could judge but the brave, fierce and proud Dragons of the South?

He wanted to prove them wrong, but at the same time he felt he ought to carry this label for the rest of his life, however short it might end up to be. He owed it to her, to Ranjiri, for leaving her behind and letting her suffer alone. Before he might have claimed that dying for someone else was exceedingly foolish, something that only happened in stories and only looked good on paper, but now he wished he could have. He was already dying, what did it matter if it happened now or in a years time?

And now... well. He wasn't more worth than cannon fodder anyway, so why not fight?

He arrived to the clearing amidst the winding paths and gazed out impassively on the seething battleground. There they were, the gods, equally wretched and foul. Why should he choose side here? What was there to gain by siding with either one, that could possibly make up for loss of independence, pride and free will?

Ah. But he had no more pride. It had been left behind in a red forest in the north, along with self respect and a pretty golden girl.

Narrowed eyes blazed with a fury he didn't feel and landed upon the shapes of people he knew. Maren the Diviner, Gaucho and Ampere and Megaera, all high ranking members of the herd - then he really had no choice now but to fight, lest he wanted to be thrown out from the herd once and for all, ass first. Perhaps that would be better... But no. They'd probably beat him to within an inch of his life first, which sounded thoroughly unpleasant.

Fine. He'd side with them, like they so dearly wanted him to, and screw whatever god he ended up fighting for.

He was quiet as he ran into the fray, a silent gray comet tailed by red flame that streaked past everyone that lagged behind to do this and that. He saw Rikyn but didn't speak up, stung but what he now thought as scornful parting words... It had only been a goodbye, but who knew what the colt had been thinking as he said it? He blazed past a big, dragonish looking stallion too, its wing spread out to hide or shield someone he couldn't see, slipped between a white foal that seemed very out of place on the battlefield and a black equine who hollered something about wounds. Probably a healer? He'd already passed when it struck him that the poor bloke didn't have any balls.

Then he saw it, a woolly black ass and a tail that looked to beg for punishment. With an almost feline hiss the disgraced child finally let out all his pent up fury, hatred and grief and flung himself at the vile god, almost relieved to finally have a target to take it out on. He shoved himself against its backside, wishing it would stagger, stumble, fall to the ground before his eyes - disgraced, shamed and even more cowardly than he was.

Rather than murderous intent or triumph however, he just felt like crying again.

Cathun

The firebrand