You're pissed. Raging, irate, wild with anger and you've kicked far too many trees to be healthy. Slam- birds fly from the trees as your shod hoof beats against the bark. Thud- your bones reverberate with the force that you strike the elm. Crash- no amount of beating up inanimate objects seems to be helping. Your ears are pinned back and your eyes are wild. Eris? ERIS!? The image of Rose Red in your mind is enough to throw you into a new frenzy, a new wild fit of screaming and lashing out. You spilled blood, tore your body to pieces, sweated and toiled, practiced and were victorious. You have played general without compensation for so very long and when your time to shine finally comes... you are forgotten. You, who clearly deserves this, are left to the sidelines while Eris, who has done nothing except hide and be entirely useless, is named general. You had to leave the Falls to clear your head. But you'll be back. Rose Red won't hide long. You'll have her skin.

Amidst all your thrashing and raging, it is interesting then that you hear another noise- a bellow that reaches into your very soul. You know that sounds- you've imagined that sound at night and dreamt of all the ways you'd thrash the owner of the sound. Yes- unless this is one very odd case of A sounding like B, you know exactly who you're going to be approaching.

You alter your coarse, heading towards it, head bobbing with the effects of your drugs. It takes you a while, but eventually you hear sounds of crashing through the underbrush that do not belong to you. Again you alter your coarse, making up for the difference in trajectory, and you find him- but it is not him, or it is some whisper of a memory of him, and instead of raging at the sight of him, you almost feel pity. He looks sick, terribly sick, injured perhaps, and it reminds you of a time he could have killed you but instead forced you into the water, to clean your wounds in the stinging salt water. You could kill him right here and right now, but even you are not that heartless.

“Pretty boy,” you spit out, anger laced in the words, but not directed towards him. The hatred you feel for Rose Red is hard to let go of, hard to forget in this moment. You try to tone it down, try to start anew. You are still jealous of him, of how deeply he knew the Phantom Seeker, but you have followed her and have been her pet and he has been gone. Perhaps you will remain in her good graces. And it is, just as you start to speak, that you have an idea. “You're late. Rose Red has stolen what is rightfully ours. We have to get it back.” Your brown eyes stare him down then, waiting, your body shifting. You're impatient and excited about this new opportunity. The fates have a funny way of showing themselves.