He had turned aside from her, not wanting to subject himself to the helpless frustration of watching the Edge burn, but she stepped into his vision again. Sometimes he envied the dark horses and how they merged with the backdrop of the night, easily missed if you weren't looking. Not like he, a ghost in the dark, a beacon of light. In the land of snow and ice it had been perfect, further breaking up his shape with the irregular spots of black, but here it was practically a death sentence. He'd had to beat off opportunistic predators on more than one occasion.

"Well enough." If only he could say the same — and if only he had known about what had snatched him up and away, perhaps he would've laughed at her wording, said she wasn't the only one to be swept away by Time. But as it was, he still didn't know why he'd been cursed with a detour in time and space, only to just walk back into this world one day, without having accomplished anything. No feat, no task, no quest — he'd just existed in his miserable little bubble, waning day by day. Black-rimmed ears flickered politely to her speech, one of them almost always cocked in her direction, the other patrolling the world for noises. "At least something good came of it," he said quietly, flicking his tail and trying to process the information. He knew that he would not be able to answer more, as another shape lit silver by the crescent moon was picking its way towards them, though as far as Mauja was able to tell the stranger was of a darker hue, his legs carrying dark points and patches of white broke up his coat. Definitely not pure white or gray, then, but some other light color. In silence, together with Smoke, he waited, ears mirroring hers and gaze alert.

In the spaces between his own words and the stranger's greeting he had the time to wonder if these "politics" Smoke spoke of had been of Paladin's doing, and if they were the reason she had left the Foothills for the Edge. Some part of him wished that it were so, for Paladin would be easy to hate. Easy to make a target of. Stop it. He did not need enemies, targets, nothing like that. He needed a clear, open mind, unclouded by judgment and prejudice.

"'Sup?"

Mauja blinked, uncomprehending, for a moment, glancing at Smoke when her movement tugged at his attention, and gave his head a miniscule shake. No one he knew. "Greetings." So, "sup" was a greeting, of sorts? Offering a small, amused smile he stored the knowledge somewhere in his mind, and exhaled. He had not wanted company on this night, yet he found himself in the presence of two; Smoke of his past, and this horned stranger. Best resign himself to it, be gracious, do the best of it, maybe even forget his reservations. "Good evening," he said politely, eying the young stallion with interest lining his moon-silvered eyes.

( just realized Smoke has met nearly all of my "big" characters -- Adalwulf, Silverline, and Mauja. I don't think she ever met Sylvanas though..? )