By the time Ashamin had pulled his teeth from the corporal's neck, by the time she had cried out to stop him, he was in tears. They were slow, bloody things. He had pulled away quickly, let his face draw too close to hers and stain in his own blood, and so his tears picked up and cleared away the red with their tracks. Ki'irha went on. She called him darling, she told him lies and steadied his nerves for the sake of holding together her own, but he couldn't register the depth of her concern. He could only stare, his black eyes feeling full but looking hollow, his gaze dead and his jaw parted. His teeth were speckled with red, his tongue felt fat and unwieldy; Ashamin realized he had bit down on it to stop himself from screaming.

But he didn't think about those things. He didn't think about how his leg burned, how difficult it was to stand. He didn't think about the memories of his spar with Torleik all flooding back and placing him at the center of some traumatic episode. These were realities, his realities, but he could not handle them. The painted buck just stared, feeling the hurt of his heart overtake that of his flesh, and wondered about the mare. How was she breathing? How was she alive? Just facts like that, just questions of nature. Those were what Ashamin could grip, those were what he needed to think about to stay sane.

His heart felt. Not anything specific, not anything he could understand, it simply felt. But of course the haruspex could not recognize it; he'd never before felt so betrayed. And even if Ashamin truly understood his emotions their origins would be a mystery to him. Why was Ki'irha different, out of all those he had cared for but fought and harmed? Zandora had haunted him, but Ashamin had felt ashamed, not betrayed. He had understood her.

Why couldn't he understand Ki'irha?

His right hind leg was soaked in blood. It was completely still, fully folded, as Ashamin struggled to balance on three legs. He still felt frozen, still felt impotent. She had said it was an accident and he had just nodded dumbly. She had drawn closer and he had simply let her. She had pressed her nose to the wound, causing him to recoil in agony, to moan at the irritation, but he had not asked her to stop. What could he do? How could he turn her away when he couldn't find the words to say he needed her to give him space?

Because that was what he needed, space. And as his tail jumped and ached, as it coiled and stuck out violently to harness the pain her every touch caused him, he thought of how to explain. How could he... how could he... no. There was simply no way to explain, because he didn't understand. He needed to know, first.

So without motion, as he stared into the distance and felt his body grow cold from the season or loss of blood, Ashamin let a question slip from his lips like the tears from his eyes and the blood from his wound.

"How could you do this to me?" Then, silently, why does this only hurt with you?

""