He could feel his heart pound hollowly in his chest, each beat rippling through his body, echoing in his veins, in his ears, and somewhere deep in his soul the beast stirred, and reared its ugly head. It hissed at the sunlight, it hissed at Zar'roc, at Elizabeth, even at Roland, but Mauja merely closed his blue eyes for a moment and shoved it aside.. away.. breathed, buried it in air and snow and cold... Zar'roc's voice was neutral, and when Mauja opened his eyes again, his face the same; smooth, impassive, and the Frostheart found himself looking at Roland. The golden dun had backed away to give them space, and Mauja found himself wondering what he was even doing here. No blood slid along his horn. There was no stain upon him. Had he not partaken in it, after all? And why did he seem so.. he frowned. What did he seem? Troubled? Anxious? He voiced a suggestion, one that Mauja would've thought the obvious choice over attacking, but alas, here was the proof that he was wrong. "Seems that beating her up is a great idea to prove we're not bastards..." he muttered, not caring if Zar'roc heard or took affront. Some of the racists really needed to learn to keep their heads and horns down until the time was right. Leyra had been them for a long time. She could've been an asset, given the proper treatment.

Now.. who knew in which ears her voice would settle? Who knew which words would fly from her lips, to speak of the plight of a pegasus, and who would read the tale of her brutal treatment upon her body? Here, at least, Mauja could've hushed her, soothed her, ground her worries to dust with soft touches and spun tales.. out there? He scowled, shading his eyes from the sun as he watched her trail leading away. Too far away to call back. He doubted she'd answer, even if he'd tried. Flicking one ear, he turned back to the gathered ones, and quietly assumed that Zar'roc and Elizabeth might accept his commands, but might not agree with his reasoning. "The damage's been done anyway, but keep your heads down in the future." His eyes narrowed, and for a moment he looked at Roland again, then back to those he assumed were the culprits. Irma flashed into his mind, confirming that Roland had arrived after Leyra had gone, and somehow it satisfied him that his new Phantom wasn't stupid enough to start beating others up. "This was very unnecessary, and foolish. Don't do it again." Ever. Or I'll beat sense into your head.

If they fought among themselves, how could they ever rise? If they turned away their kin, how could they grow strong? Didn't he know that while he had loitered someplace else and let the Edge fall, Lena, the damn most nice and least racist mare of the Basin had fought horn and hoof for her home? She knew not of the darker workings of the unicorn herd, but she was valuable, an asset, another soul to work towards their common goal without knowing it. Leyra had been pissed at losing the Edge even if she'd not fought. She could've helped them take it back, but now she was running across the snow to gods know where. "Any questions?" Cool, collected, his face and voice smooth. Only the hardness in his eyes betrayed his anger.