He dared not touch her, even as she came closer, her dark head tilting closer invitingly. Mauja remained where he was, stoic and still, trying to study what he could of her hazy details. That was definitely a small horn upon her forehead, and was that a faint glow it cast? His eyes, still somewhat narrowed, zoned in on it, and after a moment he decided that, yes, it was a horn. A small one, but a horn all the same. Her question fell upon willing ears but a deaf mind; he had no answers for her. He did not know what she could do to help, if anything at all, except lessen his solitude for the moment. " A certain amount of freedom is even granted to criminals and you don't seem like a criminal to me." It was, actually, something he had not considered, either due to his assumption that no one really knew his heart, or to the slight vain arrogance which hounded his steps. Was this a punishment? Or was it an accident? If it was deliberate, whose fault was it? What was the purpose? Some part of him wanted to wander away into the forest and ponder until the sun went down and never rose again, but that would hardly be productive. Instead, he just wondered if he'd upset someone so thoroughly to get sent off to here — or if it was a tactical move, to remove him before a strike.

Was his herd still alive?
Or were they corpses strewn on a burnt, smoking field?

Slowly the mare sank down in a bow, elegantly bending towards the earth. That she would bow to a ghost — some part of him was bemused, that even as a specter he could elicit such a response in a stranger, but more so he felt uncomfortable. He was no King anymore, and had never been a King who demanded you to bow before him. Why had he even told her that — a lost King? It was nothing but a fairytale, a flimsy fancy upon his tongue. The truth was that he was a lost man, a man who had once been entrusted with the care of his people and since failed them. To call himself a lost King made him sound like something from a dream, the perfect, shining hero of a story, beloved and missed and doomed to wander the shadows due to some terrible mistake, or something. Mauja knew that reality was far harsher and crueler than so. Perhaps he was here for no reason at all, which would, perhaps, be the cruelest thing of all.

"You do not need to bow before me, Vy." His voice carried his faint amusement, hiding the darker parts with that slight warmth. "I am King of nothing now." So call me Mauja, damnit.

Some part of him wanted to cling to the notion that she could help him, that she could guide him back, but if Onni, vivid dreams, wandering feet and hope could not, how could she? Still, he would not put it past a stranger to be powerful, or kind, nor would he deny the help offered out of kindness, and mercy. To brush her off would be rude. "Perhaps," he hedged tentatively, looking at the old, untouched trees around him for a moment. Without the steady stream of horses through, the forest held a much lusher aura, and it was significantly harder to get around. "But I was honest when I said I have no idea how to get away from here. If I could tell you how to help me, I would, but I simply do not know." And who would have answers? The Gods? They governed the physical, fire and light, earth and water, darkness and wind; did they have the power to cause a mortal to transcend reality? His mind wandered north again, to the snowy steppes. "But, Vy, you could do me a favor of a different kind. Unless they have moved, my herd lives north of here, upon a vast tundra — you could find them, and.." He frowned for a moment, silent, before sighing and continuing. "Tell them of me, or something. Join them, help protect them in my stead. That is the only thing I can think of now."

( *hugs!* I love writing against new people. <3 and they're cool! )