það var farið að skyggja og fuglarnir þagnaðir The shadows lengthened as the sun slipped towards the horizon, stretching out like grasping claws across the Basin grass. Mauja stood upon the brink between shadow and light, the ground behind him cast into darkness by one of the mountain fortress's peaks; by its side, the rays of light slipped past, glittering coldly upon the snowy slope before striking the Frostheart and the warm earth. For a moment, he closed his eyes, and breathed in the pleasantly cool air. Autumn was on its way, though summer still clung to their hidden vale — but the nights grew colder, the stars brighter, and within the range new snow had already fallen. Up there, the summers were short. Down here, it lingered longer, and the winters were milder. Hot springs lurked beneath the earth and chased the frost away, setting it apart from the tundra outside. He inhaled again, filled his lungs up with the air of his home: snow and stone, grass and minerals. They were too far from the sea to smell the brine and hear the gulls, and for a moment it dimmed his contentment, a small, blue flower of sorrow blossoming before wilting as the sun kept warming his back.

Lord of Ice and Snow or not, he would not stay here forever.

Blue eyes opened again, warm sunlight glittering within them, and a faint breeze tugged at his long forelock. Irma was off somewhere, hunting; she rode upon the warm air still rising, her keen eyes drawn to every movement as she sought for lemmings to sink her talons into. Quietly he withdrew, leaving her to focus, and instead looked out across the valley and the smooth lake. Would it freeze in winter, or would it lay open, dark and inky, reflecting the stars? Somehow, it almost bothered him that he didn't know, that he hadn't lived here long enough to tell, and he turned his eyes away. There was a reason he was here, watching, waiting. And that reason was Snö.

She, he and Psyche certainly seemed to run away from each other only to come back after a while, and while they were miraculously in the same spot all of them he hadn't spent much private time with her. Of course, he often passed her in the Basin, always had a greeting and a small smile for her, but aside from that, he didn't know much about her: who was she? What did she aspire to? She had recently switched career from Warrior to Phantom, but why? The alabaster stallion breathed in again, and surveyed the lands again, his gaze merely skimming over the lake before moving on. She had brought Valka back, made a move to capture Valentine the Traitor (Mauja could recall him and the nearly worshipful tone the stallion had had when telling of his uncle who had told of Mauja, and the notion that he'd thought himself to be a racist only to turn traitor felt vaguely foreign).. He knew her pedigree, he knew her achievements, but he knew her not. Not anymore.. since her falling out with him about Tamlin and Monster they'd not spent much time together, as a certain God had stolen him from his herd, but she seemed to be (mostly) over it.

"Snö!" he called to the quiet valley, his voice rolling around the slopes.

teaching spar for Snö, with some bonding before they start beating each other up <3
þegar úlfarnir opnaði augu hans í myrkrinu.