Irritable and snappy, Snö stood and waited, temper growing shorter as the time trickled by. For many hours had she patrolled the edge of the Dragon's Throat, a pale gleam of white light, sliding between the shadows at ease, avoiding the prying eyes of any guards manning the construction of the metal wall. It was painstaking, the waiting, far more than anything else, than even the final attack to attempt to get him home. The first time, the turncoat had evaded her, the idiot scoundrel. Yet this time, she was determined to reach him, to fetch him home to her mother and father, to make them proud of her. Yes, she may be Phantom now, to be trained in the art of shadows and stealth, but there was no reason to give up her fighting skills when she worked so hard to condition her body.

Valentine.

There was more than one reason for Snö to dislike him. He had gored Bacchus, her slave. Only she could harm Bacchus. At no time should anyone else hurt him unless she permitted it, and if it was good for the herd. Otherwise, anyone who dared lay hoof or horn on his tender flesh needed to be taught a lesson, one she or Tarak, the metal wolf under her cruel command, would happily enforce. When Snö had heard mother tell the Plague of him being a target, as a traitor who needed to be dealt with, she had, using her duties as a Plague member, immediately committed herself to the job. For several weeks she had taken her leave, trekking across the wild terrain. Out of all places, even the Veins of the Gods, the Dragon's bitter, dry Throat was the farthest from the cool, lovely land of the North, the stronghold of the unicorns.

The ghost tossed her head, swishing her tail and lashing out with her hind legs, the heat bothersome. Here, she stood on the delicate edge between Helovia's Heart, the Dragon's Throat, and the gawking forest leading towards the abandoned Veins of the Gods. Tall grass had shortened, scrubbed with sand that had drifted from the desert, with short, gnarled trees bowing down, near kissing the ground with their rustling leaves. The wind hissed, sending the coarse grains of sand stinging against hocks and the mane twisting and tousling. High above, the sun glowed, a pale white eye against a brilliant blue sky tossed with horse tail's clouds, combed thin through the heavy winds that must be raging.

It was more difficult than Snö would have believed, the life of a phantom. No, it was not slipping around and spying all the time. It had its own share of battles, short but bloody. Always did Snö covet position of warrior- she still did- but the Plague needed her to act as phantom with so few in that position. There were plenty of bash-and-whackers. They needed brains and clever thoughts, horses who well knew that surprise was nearly as important as strength. For a long time, Snö waited patiently, knowing that sooner or later the pale horse must leave his home, for whatever reason. Days dragged on... into a week or two. It was then she had attacked; and now she waited again, in the small patchwork place, growing tired of the second chance of ambush, but nevertheless prepared to wait.

It was then she thought she scented the white turncoat on the wind, and she inhaled deeply, letting out a ringing challenge. Snö was no stupid mare- she was ever so careful to make sure she was a fair distance away from the guards. For anyone listening, it would be more than clear she was... challenging his integrity. "Valentine! Face me, you yellow-bellied canker-licking red-assed tender-hearted scum-loving piece of traitor!" The ice princess cried. Her eyes flashed like cold, loveless ice. "Or you can come with me quietly, traitor."

[[4 posts each. 1 closing defence. Fighting style stealth- attempt to take capture of him. Takes place during high noon, about 24 degrees Celsius. Pretty warm because of the desert heat and lava heat. Take note this is not really in any territory, but rather where they intersect. Between DT, Helovia's Heart, and the forest leading to Veins of the Gods.]]