Snö was tired. The days had been long, and irregular, filled with her moving out and searching futilely in reconnaissance, for signs of those who may be missing or in need, those advancing on the borders, and generally doing her duties as a spy. Spy. How she detested the slippery usage of that word, especially now that she was one of the weak phantoms. Snö coveted, yearned, hungered to become the warrior she was meant to be, instead of serving as a faded shadow that roamed far and wide. Of course, the varnish could well appreciate the intricacies of war, how phantoms had their uses, and were oftentimes sent out to gain vital information- but that didn't mean she enjoyed the position she entered. Even with the bonus of having prisoners to use, she felt more trapped than ever, even though she had more freedom if anything.

Unfortunately, the ugly feeling raising within her did not settle, but instead clawed at her insides with a monstrous fury, threatening to send her over into ever more frequent bouts of cruelty and atrocious actions. Her stomach twisted and writhed violently, her temper shorter than ever, every word was gritty and cold, coming from carefree lips. With everything she said, with every step she took, Snö was incredibly conscious that one wrong move could send the Plague into fame, a turn that would only go for the worse. So the stubborn, conceited mare took to staying alone, with only her faithful companion Tarak. When she spoke, she wasted no words and did not spend time on idle conversations better spent in company of those aware of the Plague, or patrolling.

It was only briefly after she returned to the Basin from her last roaming into the wilderness, where she found the lady Valka and attempt to capture Valentine. Soon she would leave again, scouting out the Edge and trailing around the boundaries of other lands, hoping for word of this and that, rumors and gossip that came from open-mouthed inferiors. It was a day like any other, and Snö steadfastly ignored the sun and the clouds, instead planning out routes and wondering about this and that, if she should check on the other herdlands and if so, should she talk to Faelene, or was it her duty as a phantom and would that be accepted... Snö snorted, flicking her tail in annoyance. Never before had she really answered to any particular authority, even the leaders, without the most basic of respect they called for. Mauja still held greater importance in her eyes, but Psyche? Faelene? The black and red mare had proved nothing to her. In fact, Snö had not even spoken to her about her choice of career- at least in this herd. She could happily move out alone, and do what she willed, instead of waiting for boring commands. Without talking to the Thief, she would have independence, and nothing wrong could come from a freelance.

Distracted as she was, Snö was not oblivious to her surroundings. She took note of the scent drifting in the air, vaguely familiar- one of the Plague she had not met? The varnish moved, light-footed, towards the dark shape in the forest, appearing like the wraith she was training (however unwontedly) to be. "Who are you?" Snö asked, with a snap in her voice that portrayed... her, in everything, very well.