He pulled away from her.

The little mare made to follow him, but only got so far as to lift a hoof and barely begin to lean her weight forward before he turned and stared at her. Akaith trilled above, a tense and unhappy note, despite the relief of Fajira's consciousness returning. The little golden queen was reacting to the waves of anxiety, and even fear, that was rolling through the heart of her bonded. Breathes became rushed and shallow, and as he began to speak, her worst fears were realised.

Mirage had always been hesitant to trust. Her heart yearned to give its affections to many, and did so now, despite her lifetime of training to deny it its pleasure. All her life she had worked to hide her emotions, her cunning mind figured that if she exposed herself to no-one (aside from Akaith, of course), she would live longer, survive this world. Always she had been a creature of solitude, finding solace in the company of only her dragon, and on rare, delightful occasions, her family.

Then she had ventured to Helovia. The little shadowmare had felt emotions too strong to ignore, too powerful to contain. They had ruled her, torn away her façade of stony indifference. That mask slipped back into place now - it was her default reaction to a threat to her peace, her happiness. All the emotions drained from her face, even her eyes could only stare in similar hard blankness that he gave her. It hurt, it cut deep, deeper than any wound ever would. She loved him, adored him, treasured him for his way of always highlighting her faults, helping her through tough times, and supporting her when she needed it.

Truth be told, it had been Lace who had inspired the mare into action. He was restless, and he had spoken of striking the enemy before they had a chance to strike against them. Mirage hadn't wanted to drag the innocent youths into the fray, of course she hadn't - but how else was she to get their attention? They needed to make an impression upon the Basin, a threat that would hit home just how fed up the Qian was with the plague of death and destruction that had been washing through their family. The DragonHeart had hoped for a diplomatic discussion - hoping that the Basin would send an envoy instead of an army - it was a foolish hope, she knew, but she also had faith in her warriors preparedness to meet and defeat the attack.

The crown landed upon her poll with a dull thud, the mare bent her own façade down, as if cringing away from it. She closed her eyes a moment, as if to escape the harsh reality that was her friend's love turning into a burning hatred. Her heart steeled itself that little bit more, instead of a fire of warmth and love, it became more like a dragon's hide - scaly and impenetrable. Akaith warbled a farewell to Fajira, and when Mirage opened her eyes once more, he was gone.

The little mare breathed again, before daring to look at Smoke. Everything Lace had said, she agreed with - that was the most heart-wrenching thing. With an impenetrable expression, she merely offered the healer a nod, before murmuring in a voice she wasn't sure was entirely her own any more; "Thank you, Smoke. I shall keep scouting the borders for those who need your services, and send Akaith to Zaffre if we need you." The mare pulled away then, adopting the tricks she had learned before she had learned of magic - a simple matter of stealth and subtlety.