The roar of the wind drowned out the sound of his pulse, but he could feel it, the throb of life within his chest, cold marble hammering against a cage of ice. Distantly he heard the crash of water against rocks, the dark waves riding high in the night, moonlight shimmering upon the froth as they came down like mouths trying to consume the land.

Mauja didn't care. The only way he was going to fall into the frigid water was if he ran into it, and he didn't plan on doing that.

His patience was running low, worn ragged by the whipping winds. It howled and moaned, touching him with freezing hands, and, snarling, he began to pace. The storm threatened to steal the very warmth from his body, and despite the layers of rage blanketing his mind, he knew how very foolish it would be to engage in such a twisting, intricate dance with cold muscles. Stomping one hoof upon the ground he began to trot, small, small circles while his hot, ragged breath counted down the time. He could hardly call it the calm before the storm, as the winds were trying to push him to his knees, but he could call it waiting, and he hated it. Hated not knowing.. when.. where... Irma's sharp eyes caught movement, at last, and his pacing ceased instantly. With cords of white whipping in front of his face Mauja stared with bleached-out eyes upon the shape approaching: slender, shorter, some dull brown in the monochromatic light cast by the moon.

Her silken voice found his ears, which immediately flattened themselves to his neck at the sound. Proper? It wasn't proper for ladies to abduct herd members either, but if she was fool enough not to recognize why he was here, let her suffer her agony in ignorance. She deserved it. Raising his head in the gale Mauja pinned her with his gaze, thankful that his low growling wouldn't carry across the din of the weather and crash of wave. She didn't need to know just how close he was to snapping, how close to the brink of insanity he stood, peering down into the chasm and wondering how it would feel to let go of control. With something almost thoughtful in his near-white eyes Mauja let his gaze wander her body. Surely she was warm, even on a night like this... He jerked into motion, gliding like a moonlight wraith across the flattened grass, frost glittering upon the bent blades where he had stepped.

"You're coming with me." His cold, clipped voice cut through the turbulent air. It was not a request; it was a command. Unless she would break and run away he drew nearer, eerie-looking with his cold corona of light and his slow, sure-footed walk, long mane and tail lashing about him like angry snakes. "And if you won't come of your own free will," he continued in a smooth voice, his eyes frigid.

"I will make you come."