Inside her home, the girl rested in the little patch of trees she called her own. It was hot- far too hot to be roaming where the sun could reach her skin. Of course, it could be worse- she could be in the Throat. With a sigh, Kahlua flicked her tail to shoo the flies that buzzed around her. Unfortunately, standing still did not keep them at bay and so the girl forced herself into a walk. As she did so, she thought again of the conversation she had had so recently with Mirage. Will you become my Glazier. It brought a smile to her face. She had finally achieved the power she had longed for. To make matters even better, it seemed that Aaron was gone; or, at the very least, just no longer desiring to work his trade. Mirage had said that the Glaziers were unable to hold their title. Admittedly, she was sad to have Lace go. She desired the stallion's guidance. As for Aaron, she had nothing against the stallion except that he had so rudely called her out in the aftermath of the invasion.

Shaking her head to push the thought away, she moved through the land and lifted her head to see if she could find any familiar faces. For the most part, the forest seemed devoid of life. The heat of the day had everyone hiding, or wallowing in the shadows of a cooler place. That was, until she saw him. Aaron. A small frown passed over her lips, suddenly frightened that he had returned to reclaim his position and wrest it from her hooves. He could not. She had earned it fair and square! And, she was determined to make her position clear. Trotting over to him and then halting before him, the girl nodded her head to both him and his Hellhound in turn.

“You're back,” she managed. Her voice was not the sing-song sound it usually was, but it was not especially cold. “I was looking for you every day,” she said then, almost pouting. It was true. Despite her dislike for the stallion, she had searched endlessly in a vain attempt to get an assignment from him. In her eyes, it was always better to please your superiors; however, in this moment, she was taking joy in the fact that she thought herself his superior. “Mirage made me Glazier.” She did not intentionally say this to rub it in, but she never had been very smart. In her mind, it was imperative he should know. Otherwise, the girl fell rather silent. She wanted to see what he had to say, to see how he reacted to her. Would he still treat her like a child, or could he respect the fact that she had risen in the ranks?