The ground was hard. Of course, since that's what permafrost tend to do to soil when the temperature only reach above freezing for a few months every year. Just barely enough to allow the snow to thaw away and give the plants a chance to grow, reproduce and wilt before the snow begins to fall once again. All of this I already knew, but I still found myself left with a feeling of discontent as I scraped away a thin layer of newly fallen snow, only to find nothing worth the effort. Pallid eyes stare grimly at the patch of bared earth, as though looking at it long enough would scare the dead grass into growing. Ears flip backward, frozen into a perpetually grumpy expression that I had been wearing for days now, and with a sharp snort to declare my dissatisfaction with the whole situation I reached down and began to nibble at the tough, dry remains of what would have been lush green grass had it grown anywhere but in this frozen wasteland.

The grass was dry and the taste bitter, but not more so than the mood that hung over the group of rag-tag soldiers and commoners that had gathered around the fallen king. Overall the unicorns were moll-tuned and grouchy, trying to hide their fears and uncertainty behind a facade of gruffness and strength. Some succeeded, others didn't, but overall it was as if a black cloud had settled over the scattered remnants of the herd and put a lit on anything that even resembled cheerfulness.
Chewing on a mouthful of tough roots I lifted the head and looked out over the plain, regarding the shapes that moved around me. The light was weak and bleary, a pale winter sun hiding behind a thin veil of clouds that threatened with snow without deigning to tell when it might come. The wind was bitterly cold and ate through the thickest winter coats, until you were left wondering if you'd ever feel warm again. And this was only the beginning, only the very start of winter.

I sighed and swallowed before abandoning the useless patch, leaving it to stroll around the area. A sense of restlessness kept me moving from spot to spot even though the bruised leg complained about the lack of rest. It felt better now than before, it was starting to heal but would still take a while more before I'd be ready to run any marathons. And I hadn't been badly injured. Even Psyche looked worse for wear, not to mention the state of Mauja before he'd been healed... Maybe it was the knowledge that nothing would happen until they had healed at least a bit more that made me uneasy. Or it was the weather, the constant chill and gnawing of hunger as I couldn't find enough grazing to fill the belly. Gnawing on ice and snow helped against the thirst, but sooner or later we would all have to move. But where? Back to the Edge to battle once more, to some other herdland that perhaps were less prepared for an attack? Maybe we'd be forced to scatter of the winter, separate into groups and see to ourselves for survival until spring came anew and the season of war opened up for new opportunities.

A crimson tail slapped sharply against the hocks, sending the pegasus feather spinning in the cold wind. Really, I just wanted to do something, anything. Something concrete, so that I wouldn't have so much time to think and feel and reflect upon every little detail of the dreary landscape around me. Gritting the teeth and biting down an urge to lash out at the first best unicorn to cross my path I kept walking, pacing back and forth - even welcoming the discomfort of my bruises as a distraction.