It was, of all damn things, sleeting. Profuse, thick glacial sludge that poured from the sky crackling and thundering with electricity, snapping whips of pure, raw energy. Fucking autumn. Even in the North, her temporary home, the season could not make up its mind, if it was near spring or near winter. The air was cold, so bitterly frozen, and the snarling wind felt as if it was trying to peel the skin from her face. At first, Snö had fought it with a passionate fury, marching on without delay. But she wearied fast in the hodgepodge of rain, snow, rumbling, ear-splitting thunder, and she could not imagine her prisoner fared any better, seeing as he had lost. Even she had winced as she heard the snap and crackle of bones snapping and pulling, the joints unlocking and popping as her hooves had cracked into his shoulder, dislocating it. It was then he had given way under her, then she had gained the upper hand.

Not that she would ever admit it, but it had been more difficult than she would've thought, even knowing him from the first attempt, to subdue the canker-licking, soft-hearted, yellow-bellied stallion. For most part, during the long trudge home Snö had steadfastly ignored the white unicorn she despised so greatly for being a turncoat. What had been done, had been done. She had come off with her small part of injuries as well- what hurt most was the long, slim gash that ran across her left hindquarter, where his horn had ran through the delicate flesh. Luckily, it was shallow. Unluckily for Valentine, it hurt like a stinging bitch, which improved naught of her temper. In fact, rather unsurprisingly it made her even more malignant and vile than usual. But despite her relentless anger, there was one small seed of hope planted in her. Would this be the way to become noticed, to have attention drawn to her? Would Psyche realize her worth, and what she had done wrong by condoning her, abandoning her?

As much as Snö would prefer to say the walk home was short, it was long, dragged out over the space of several weeks, even when they kept a forced-march pace of cantering for two hours, and walking for a half hour. It was tiring, and one of the only reasons Snö pushed on was because she wanted to be rid of him, him and his hideous hide- she wanted to kick him into a forgotten cave and bathe her white-turned-brown from dust hide in the hot springs. It was an insistent urge, to purge herself of the clinging dirt, to ease her stiffening muscles in the hot water, to relax. Just the thought of it made her knots seem to undo, come a little looser.

Snö didn't mind the dirty work, exactly, but she appreciated the finer pieces of life.

Here they were, however, the heavens unleashing a torrent of rain, as they stood on the edge of the Basin. For a long minute she stood, staring down, vision blurred by the lashing snow rain, before turning her head curtly to Valentine. "Go, get a move on," she grunted, lowering her horn towards his chest, from a rough two or three feet away.