It had to have been the painful mark that ached upon the skin of my shoulder that kept me from realizing that I wasn't alone. Maybe I had grown aloof and pathetic in my meager three years of life. Maybe I wasn't meant to be a Protector, following in the hoof-steps of my father, for if I had allowed someone to sneak upon me like this, then what promise did I have on the battlefield? How could I ever hope to protect the ones that I loved if I couldn't even watch my own backside?

The chocolate brown orbs of my eyes seek out the voice that speaks softly through the darkness, my head snapping back and ears pinning minutely at the unnamed threat. I squared my massive shoulders, allowing my height and general bulk to aid with intimidation... But it's as my eyes adjust once more to the slim moonlight that slipped through the canopy of trees that I realize just who I'm staring at, and who I'm trying to passively threaten.

Kahlua. Queen of the Edge.

Kahlua. The monster that haunted my dreams.

For one brief, absurd moment, I'm torn between bolting in terror or standing my ground and dropping to a bow before my ruler, even though my heart felt detached when I looked upon her... But it seems as though the Sunshower is reacting no differently than I. Where my body is tense, muscles poised and ready to push me to safety, I can see that hers is quite the same. It's as though she doesn't know what to make of me, of seeing me, and once again I'm struck with the daunting question of if she even knew who I was.

Did she remember? Did Kahlua remember trying to tear me apart? Did she remember almost succeeding, had Aaron not shown up when he did? Did she? These questions run rampant in my head, and I am frozen, standing with cream-kissed hooves digging into the dirt, ears swiveled forward, nostrils flaring, my eyes narrowed as if daring her to try something...

But then Kahlua, the Queen of the Edge, the Sunshower, apologizes, and my fear of her slides from my shoulders like fresh spring rainwater. 'I'm so sorry.'

"... My Queen," I utter her title with respect, squaring myself up once more, but not to appear threatening. No, this time, I stood in formation before my Queen, as a good soldier should. My head is tucked, neck arched powerfully, shoulders and haunches squared and ready. My eyes focus completely upon her, the chocolate depths shining in the sparse moonlight. "Please... You don't have to apologize to me." She could demand for me to run, and I would run. She could plead for me to swim, and I would swim... She could ask me to kill, and I would kill.

"That... That time was terrible for us all, I think... But few know that while we uninfected suffered, it's those who were infected that suffered more. Do... Do you remember, Ma'am? What it was like?" Because that was torture in itself, wasn't it?