His greatest flaw was his heart.

He'd not said much on the way home, just walked along in silence as the sun rose and the winds receded. The brittle grass underhoof turned to cool, crisp snow, until it surrounded them on every horizon. Once the sun rose to take its place in a pastel peach sky it struck the frost crystal, setting them all a-glitter, but he had no eyes for the glorious beauty. Haunted by the memory of his own anger, he wondered what had possessed him, what had goaded him into such a blatant display of emotion... Had it been that sense of recklessness, as the wind had whipped around him and threatened to chill him to the marrow? Or the chance of fighting, of feeling the clash of bodies, the spike of adrenaline as a blow landed upon you..? For a moment, he closed his pale eyes and walked blindly, easily stepping through the snow. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Whatever had happened, he wanted to forget it — wanted to forget the elation at the promise of blood, the sick, lunatic joy as he had seen her obliviously draw near... to forget the stab of guilt at her words. To merely command her had worked, so why, why, the frenzy? Gritting his teeth, Mauja opened his eyes again. Perhaps he was just losing himself, drowning in the confusing miasma of emotions. Perhaps he was trying too hard to be who he had been.

He heaved a tired sigh and flicked his white tail, resisting the urge to curse fates and all that. Perhaps it was just the fact that more horses than usual behaved like idiots the past weeks, and that it was constantly trying his failing control? Though he ill liked to place the blame upon others, perhaps that was how it was... He ground his teeth together.

It could just as well be his cursedly soft nature, that he needed fury to cause harm at all.

The bastion mountains of the Basin loomed on the horizon, dark and foreboding under their cloaks of last winter's snow. Chilly, yet beautiful, this place never truly thawed. Below the crunching snow the ground was frozen solid year round, and only in patches did the bare and hard earth show itself, unyielding and offering only sparse, tasteless grazing. Up ahead, Irma soared through the pale sky, casting a shadow he couldn't see where it fell. Nudged by him she abandoned her leisurely flight and sped elegantly towards the mountain pass, her keen eyes searching for signs of movement and finding none. As he led his prisoner, the buckskin Angora, to the gates of the Basin they were all alone, and, riddled by his guilty conscience and confusion, he preferred it that way. Mauja was.. cold and cruel, to an extent, yes, but it was all on the inside, like a dark shadow cast across his heart. Mauja did not let the fury ride him like the night mare riding unfortunately souls in the dark hours of night: Mauja controlled the fury, spoke in gentle, deceptive tones... He would not announce Angora's return to them all, to let them come and play with her. And so, the empty pass suited him just fine.

The sound of hooves striking rock echoed faintly around him, the day deathly quiet otherwise, and his black-rimmed ears kept swiveling upon his head, trying to catch sound of anyone nearby. Irma saw none, but he knew that some in the Basin could choose not to be seen.. though he trusted Faelene to keep quiet if she saw him return. She was not one to gloat, nor was she privy to the Plague's workings, but — he had ever been the protector of the Edge, so that he hunt down the captor of one of their herd.. surely there was nothing wrong in that?

Just before the pass opened up into the valley of the Basin, the hot springs underneath the vale thawing the earth and lush tundra grasses waving gently in the lazy breeze, Mauja ground to a halt and swept the horizon with his gaze, once. Then, he turned his head to look upon Angora — she had looked haggard already when she answered his call, how did she fare after a night's walk in the cold? He smothered the concern, and watched her with the kind of impassive look he beheld everything with these days. "I would ask you to be quiet. This is not a safe place to attract attention to one's self." His own voice was low, though there was a hint of warmth in it all the same, mirrored by the briefest shadow of his usual small smile. "Come on, this way." Motioning to the right with his head he slipped out from the pass and followed the slope, knowing that Irma circled above with a watchful eye. There were several caves scattered along the mountain walls of their home, and while he didn't intend to keep her this near the entrance if she was to stay, it was a good place to hide her away before anyone caught wind of his success. Pausing beside it's dark mouth he gestured with his muzzle for her to go in, one eye on the empty landscape. "After you."