follow me home

She wasn't exactly sure what kept her rooted to the spot. She told herself it was the cold clawing at her skin, urging her back into the warm tunnel where their joined breaths heated the air around them. Yet that was a stupid thought; surrounded by ice and squeezed closely to a stag she barely knew - it was not exactly her ideal situation. So why, then, was she not running now she had been released from what was, essentially, one of Artemis' worst ideas for how to spend a day? Her eyes avoided his face, glancing up to his muzzle only as he spoke. They instead, glanced over his chest.

A large scar disrupted the fur growth - it was subtle, yet for someone like Artemis it was obvious what it was. It was an old wound, long healed, and the mare wondered to herself id he had sustained it on the day he spoke of - if one of her now brothers or sister in arms had pierced his chest. It seemed like they had aimed for the heart - a feeling Artemis knew well. It made he think of dear Laila; Artemis could have killed her, and she knew it, and yet she had refused to strike the foolish - but brave - fillies heart. Laila had forced her to question herself, yet Artemis had no where else to go. The Grey had accepted her when she was at her lowest, and there she would remain.

Its just a cramp, he responded simply, It'll g away soon. Her brow raised and she shrugged her shoulders. A sigh escaped her silver muzzle. She had been a fool to even for a moment expect him to follow her to the Foothills, though she knew Apollo, kind as he was, would doubtful hesitate to heal the stallion. Apollo, as it was, was her only real friend in the herd. "Very well." She replied with a slight dip of the skull. "But the invitation is always there." She told the stallion, truthfully, though she did wonder quietly to herself if the rest of the Grey would agree with her 'open invitation' toward the gruella. His distrust of her herd also made her wonder; was she hated among the Edge now? She was a villian who had attacked without provocation. Did that make her a bad person?

She turned in silence and took a slow step, but his words pulled her back. She froze, back to him, lowering her head. Artemis, could I see you again? The mare hesitated, before slowly turning over her shoulder. "Maybe," She said, finding that she was smiling. She told herself she was happy to have met someone who didn't mind her quiet demeanor. "Maybe I will meet you in our cave in a few weeks time?" She told the stag. There was no way of judging time without the sun. Turning away, she began to walk before breaking into a canter. Her flower may have wilted, yet another may just have bloomed.


-fin-