Sometimes he wondered if he wanted to die, when he was climbing the mountains in spite of their buffeting winds and the deep snow upon their slopes. He was a horse, not a goat, and not really meant for the crags and narrow, winding paths, but he was also stubborn as a donkey and refused to let something as trivial as bloodlines defeat him. If he wanted to climb mountains, he was damn well going to do it, without dying. Grunting under his breath he kept following his trail, which was not wide enough for him to turn around on and go back either. On one hand the cliff rose, and on the other, it fell away in a steep slope, though he could see it lessening up ahead. Perhaps he should just call it a die before he actually tripped, and take the opportunity of going down to a lower altitude... Mauja narrowed his eyes and kept his focus, neatly placing frosted hooves upon the dark path. No snow clung to it, as the winds had scoured it mostly clean, but he was wary of ice or loose footing. While he was sure he'd survive a roll down the slope, he wasn't too keen on experienced the pain (and humiliation). After all, Irma was watching him with amusement, and he had a notion she'd find it highly entertaining if he did fall.

As it was, he nearly did, when Leyra's voice rang out across the range. Mauja froze where he was, and his ears flickered nervously, listening to the sleeping mountains: none of them rumbled, and only after several tense moments did he remember to breathe again. At least she hadn't sent an avalanche down on him, which would've been very rude if she had. Drawing in a lungful of cool arctic air he tried to calm the hammering of his heart, and as he drew forward on his path again Irma went ahead, to look at why on earth Leyra had been crying. She kept her visions to herself as she swung around the peak, searching for the mare, but Mauja had picked up his pace anyway, worried.. worried for her, and worried for what she had seen. Sometimes the greatest threat to their secrecy came from within, and with his recent run-in with Ari and Lana... he was quite worried, to say the least. Snorting, he came onto the slightly snowy landing, the slope manageable down to where the other horses were. He could see the light glancing off Leyra's snow-capped hind end as she tore away, down the slopes, heedless of her own safety. He smelled blood, saw it spatter the ground at Zar'roc's feet and glint upon Elizabeth's horn. Roland, the new stallion, stood with them, asking a question Mauja very much would like answered too.

What the hell had they attacked her for? What had she done? Even if she'd tried to interfere with something — a Pegasus, by the sounds of it, and his mind went to Lana's ragged state — it was no reason to attack her.. to filthy their own weapons with the blood of a unicorn. Mauja drew a deep breath as he looked down upon them from where he stood, trying to bridle his anger and force it down. He had to figure out the facts before he snapped. Perhaps she'd started it all, but.. it didn't seem like her. "Zar'roc!" he bellowed, mostly to let them know that he was there, and coming down. He didn't know if Elizabeth held any rank but he considered her to be somewhat of an idiot anyway, and he didn't know how much Roland knew or not.

Snow cushioned his hooves as he stepped of his landing, and he could feel loose pebbles rattle under as he sank through. Turning himself so he faced slightly sideways he cautiously placed each hoof before placing his weight on it, and with only a shower of snow he clattered down beside them, outside a cave and with Leyra's blood-flecked escape trail before his eyes. "Report." The command was curt; he had no desire to ask how they were all feeling on this particular day. He wanted to know what had transpired, and why, and if they had any brains at all. His blue eyes were impassive, neutral; little of his white figure gave the suppressed anger away, as one ear flicked lazily back to listen to the world around them, wary of a delayed avalanche with all the ruckus.