The little shadow mare cast her request, just as he had done, and she watched for a reaction. His chiselled façade gave nothing away - he was as stony in his resolve as she was. Though Mirage had inner turmoils writhing and roiling within her, she did her best to do as she had done all her life - to hide it, to show nothing but that which she wished the opposing party to see. The deep, resonant voice murmured a reply then, her harks lifted to grasp it - you steal children. It was not the first time someone had raised the hypocrisy of her actions, and it was not as if she had endeavoured to follow through with her plan without heralding some doubts within her mind. How else were they to get the Basin's attention? To truly threaten them in a way they would listen and consider? Mirage's followers had captured this very Reaper within her walls before, and even prevented him from escaping by his own will when he attempted to. It was only by her word then that he had been allowed to go home, and yet still they murdered and stole the Edge's members, still they resorted to violence rather that diplomacy.

It was impossible to know who cast the first stone. Would that Mirage could have this conversation with Mauja, the spotted steed she had first met in the presence of the Moon Goddess, where he reigned as King beneath her silver light in the very misted lands she now held dear. Why hadn't she accepted his offer to reside in the moonlit lands then, as his follower? Why had she left then, and worshipped the Goddess from afar, in her own way, and gathered her own forces? It was the impossible question, one that hindsight should have offered her clear insight on, yet at this moment she was at a loss. Yes, she had done wrong, but was stealing children as bad as murdering their parents? The Basin had, in three foul swoops, taken the lives of three parents, leaving behind foals who were orphaned.

"We gave them shelter and food. They were not harmed." And many of them had already escaped in the chaos of the invasion, but Mirage was not about to let that stop her bargaining for peace. Her voice was quiet, merely stating the fact that they had taken the lives of those the Basin held dear and treated them with the respect they deserved as prisoners of war.. which was more than she could say for her own captivity in the Basin. It was a curious observation, to realise that both of them had spent time in the other herd as a prisoner, and yet, who had come out on top? Who was 'victorious', if that was even what it could be called?

"We held four captives in return for the two lives the Basin was witnessed in destroying. Perhaps you should be grateful we did not choose to react in kind to the treatment we have been receiving." Surely this monster would appreciate their actions now? Surely he would see that the Edge had merely done what any family would do, and reacted in grief, barely controlled and spurred by the rush of emotions in the moment of discovering the identity of both killers. Then Mirage remembered, he was the Reaper, the wielder of death, his very presence meant one walked along that thin, unsteady line that separated one from the land of the living and the land of the dead. The shadow mare dismissed the thought as hopeless. It was Mauja that Mirage wanted dead anyway, she yearned for his horn to be delivered to her, with the associated body attached still or naught, it mattered little to her.

"One season, and another meeting, you and I, at the dawn of OrangeMoon."