Well, at least he was owning up to his grave mistake. His demeanor was one of utter submission and apology, a stark contrast to her own stance of hostility and power. Her head was high, the haughty, proud look on her features showing precisely what she thought of him and his little excursion. His words were correct, but still, her amber gaze narrowed. He had answered her question, but avoided the why of the matter, and this was what she was most interested in. Oh, she knew the answer of course - he was not as married to their ideals as his betters, not as devoted to her cause as the others. He had always been a bad mark on their hide, and she had never trusted him, and now she knew why. But she wanted to hear him say it.

But before she could tell him as much, he was again speaking, and she couldn't believe her auds. "Punish me as you see fit, but I beg of you, leave the mare be, and I will do as you wish." She stared at him, enraged beyond words, but this lasted only for a moment; then her actions exploded out of her in a whirlwind of fury. "You dare!" she shrieked, eyes wild with burning hatred. "You dare risk your life for that thing? You think that by offering your pathetic little self to our cause, by enslaving yourself to us, we will spare your little hornless friend?" she sneered, her voice the screeching scream of a demonic banshee.

And then it lowered in decibel, taking on a menacing, almost mad, cackling quality, her eyes sparking with the insanity of her bloodlines. She giggled, and it was the sound of prison doors slamming in his face. "Well, fool, so be it. Your punishment is this: you will remain within the borders of the Steppe. If you so much as think about leaving, running, whatever sad plan you can dream up in that idiotic head of yours, I will kill your little friend, with you there to watch. It will be slow and it will be painful, and I will relish every second of it." Her voice had lowered to a menacing hiss as she stalked closer to him, her head high above his, pressing him with all the authority that she could muster.

His position was lower than even Sno's slave, Rapha, basically akin to the prisoners of war that they had so desperately sought. Perhaps she should hand his pathetic hide over to Stellaluna, the torturer, and allow her to punish him in her own way, to draw screams of pain and pleads for mercy from his traitorous throat. Or, better yet, when he broke her rules (which she was sure he would), she would make him kill the equine mare himself, with her standing by to watch. Yes, that would be the ultimate revenge. But for now, he would live, and be confined to the herd, forbidden to leave. She glared at him one last time, then skirted him to greet Elizabeth. "Find the mare, and harm her as you please. Don't kill her. I'd like to reserve that for our dear traitor." The words were softly spoken, and it was unlikely he would hear her command. Even so, he was forbidden to leave, and his attempted assistance would only hurt the mare further.

[W/C | 566]