It was confining. The way that the caverns seemed to envelope in and around one. My hooves were alight with a harmless, licking fire that swelled with my anxiety of not being able to warn others of my presence should they feel the desire to spread their wings out or spin around in a quick movement. I moved much more like a snake, weaving through people and lurking along the edges of the herds. It was much like I had lived my life in the north and the small, trickling rivers of water pooled at our feet gave me much more of a feeling of home than the Throat had ever provided. Had anyone known this they probably would have thought I was insane. But, it still wasn't home. It had it's monsters lurking in the corners of the caverns.

Monsters that would grasp my mind and shake me out of a relatively good mood into one so much more tense than before. My harmless flames would erupt a little bit larger and brighter as I felt my entire body freeze, peering around at those who stood near me. It was only when I could lock my eyes with Alleo, see the nod of his head, that I would be able to completely pull myself out of the image that I was being held captive. Because, wasn't that what the caves were? A place for captivity? Just the thought sent a ripple of distaste down my spine.

It was a snort that pulled my attention back toward the painted stag who was lingering at the edges of the meeting just as I was. But, the clicking of hooves with the snort was what had me trailing off after him. Delicate steps mimicking his arrival as he went through the twisted paths into the caverns that were around.

Exploring? I suppose that it was necessary, but it seemed so strange - to not tell others that we would be back. Shrugging the feeling off I came to an elegant trot and siddled up beside him. A gentle bump of my maw to his shoulder and then I followed him to the source of water that was nearby. As he began to sip at it so did I, but in quieter, more delicate strokes. I did not need too much - I could live off of only a few for the moment.

Another gentle bump before I am taking a few steps backwards and rolling in the glowing moss that seemed to be coating the floors and scratching at my scarred back which was now easily seen in the eerie, green lights.

Self-conscious? Perhaps just a little. But I couldn't change the scrape-lined markings of a scar tree across my back - nothing could now.