( follows trend of changing table~ )

Something thoughtful seemed to come over her, and he was content to let her be alone with her thoughts. After all, this was a good night for quiet contemplation, or at least had been, until those rainclouds had come along. Sighing softly he lowered his head to rest it against her black shoulders again, stirring only slightly to flick his tail when she touched his neck. Her whiskers tickled his skin, causing it to twitch, but he didn't pull away; after so long alone, being touched felt.. great. He found no other word to describe it with. Away from the rain, coming in on broad, white wings, Irma sailed down through the air to brush just along the top of Delinne's neck before catching herself on Mauja's shoulder. He winced quietly as her talons dug into his skin, splitting it open and drawing forth a few pearls of blood before she found her own balance. Well, maybe not all kinds of touch felt great. She withdrew her claws from his body, and shuffled around to better sit upon him. Irma was not one to interact with others, especially not horses, and giving Delinne only a single, fleeting glance with her ice-like eyes she deemed her no threat and promptly began to preen her wind-ruffled feathers.

"Mauja... I want to come home, but I don't know if I ever will." Whatever it was he'd thought she'd been thinking of, it certainly wasn't that — he felt himself grow very still, his heartbeat quieting in his chest, ears falling back and 'brows drawing together in confusion, consternation. It saddened her, he could hear it in her voice, and it saddened him too — she'd been with them for a while, helped to defend their now-lost home (images of the World's Edge trickled into his mind, an aerial view of the clifftop home — had Irma been spying on them?), had bled for them... "Whyever not?" he asked her quietly, pulling back a little to get a view of her face; she just seemed... sad. Was someone holding her back? Had she fallen under sway of the racially mixed? Mauja had always suspected she was not a racist, and she had never been initiated into the Plague, even been told of it, for that reason, yet sometimes even the friendly, happy ones held these ideals in their hearts... But had she found that she belonged with others? With the open-minded? His nostrils widened, sampling her scent again — no, she hadn't lied when she said she'd been living at the meadow. She did not smell of any of the herds he knew of.

Then what? Was it her desire, to stay away from their hidden vale among the snowy mountains? Or was someone controlling her, forcing her to stay away? If that was the case — he'd murder the bastard. "What's wrong, Delinne?" His black-rimmed ears swirled upon his head, listening to the sound of falling rain coming closer, tasting it upon the wind, as his worried eyes watched hers, trying to read them, read her. He wanted to know. He wanted to know the truth. But would he be able to handle it? That, he did not know.