It's not that I take life for granted
It's only that the good won't make it
Innocence dies while villainy thrives

It was the loneliness that had driven the brindle northbound, the sweet, wonderful knowledge that Talbot was the only one within miles. Only the hound could bring him even a sliver of comfort, calm his wretched, plagued mind, and reassure him no matter what the Goddess' cruel plan threw at him next.

The pair had walked this way many times in the past, making the trek from the place they had once called home, the Aurora Basin, down to the rest of Helovia. The memory was vague to Crowley, his mind unlike him, sickly and swimming with fear, every snow hare that darted away from them an otherworldly beast ready to swallow him whole. The hound of hell at his side did what he could, offering feelings of ease to his master, but it seemed to affect the stallion little if at all. Oh, he knew exactly where they were headed, he remembered the Basin fondly from his more youthful days, romping about with Rhiannon and learning the ins and outs of the world... And how he hoped that he could guide the brindle back home and find some sort of help.

"There you are!" A voice suddenly sounded within the distance, demonic and full of malice, threatening. "I've been searching for you!"

Planting his hooves firmly in the snowy ground, Crowley's head snapped to attention, body rigid, molten eyes wide, nostrils expanding and constricting rapidly. Who had been searching for him...? He had been so certain they were alone, that they had finally put enough distance between them and the rest, but... He had been wrong. In the distance stood two others, looking nothing more than strangers, but Crowley knew why they were there. Talbot had been false in his reassurances that they would be unbothered, and as though whatever fiber was barely holding him together snapped in two, the stallion came undone, turning on both the hound himself and the two standing ahead of them.

Anything else fell on deaf ears.

Without a word, ears fell flat against his skull and he lunged at the unsuspecting hound, mouth agape, effectively landing a nasty bite on the canine's tufted back. A yelp escaped Talbot, whom darted forward with tail between his legs, golden eyes wide with equal parts fear, confusion, and betrayal. He had remained faithfully at the brute's side for the duration of the Moon's curse and had intended to remain there forevermore, but... what if the curse has caused too much damage to his master, and his quest, never satisfied? The thought was painful, his heart feeling constricted by that of barbed wire, but now was no time for dwelling on such dismal thoughts.

The hound made haste towards the girls, looking the least bit threatening as possible so as not to frighten them off; that was very much Crowley's job, as the brindle was charging right after him, head thrashing wildly about, gnarled horns poised like too-long battering rams as he closed the distance between himself and the two fillies, who were anything but his daughters in his battered mind. "You'll not take me, beasts!" He called with virulent tone, and when he drew close enough, if he drew close enough, the brindle swung his horned head towards the dark filly, while making an attempt to kick out for the pale one, a malicious, yet so very frightened glint shining in his wide eyes.


"Talk talk talk."