Her hesitation, possibly even better called fear, was evident in everything she did. It sent a thrum of pain through me, as if I were an instrument that she had plucked. Yet, I suppose it's rather unkind of me to consider myself the victim here, when she lays at my very feet. Still, I have no chains with which to bind her, no burly guard to seize her (they are all fighting), no strength in which to keep her. Should she but rise and run, she'd be free. I suppose the drugs are still wearing off though, but by sunrise she'd be free, and the war would be over.

I glanced to the side as that thought sung through me, gaze fixed on the horizon as if the longer I stared the better and further I might be able to see. I could still hear it, the fighting, but I was not as startled as I had been before. Most of them would be engaged now I imagined, and I always had my magic...

I glanced back to her as her question fell upon the world. In response my ears tilted back towards the west, towards the setting sun and the very fray she'd been tardy to. I shook my head in response, features drug into a sad line. Surely she knew - was it necessary to ask? I could give her no better answer than the sounds around her.

Then, the sky rippled, and the sunset was thrown into shade as night fell upon our realm with unexpected haste. I blinked, shying and ancy at first, but calming when no further mayhem ensued. Still, unbeknownst to me, I had erupted into a fountain of ink and reformed myself as a small, dark squirrel. In my cowardice I'd scrambled to shelter behind Lena, if she'd have me. The moments ticked by, but still I drew breath, so I poked around back into the open. My fluffy tail twitched as I lifted on my hind feet, once again begging the horizon for answers. Who won truly mattered little to me; only my life, and ideally a place to call home and graze in, was important. Perhaps given time I might have grown loyal, more like a cat than a dog, but in this hour, I continued to serve myself.

Such was the conflict that I faced now that I had taken Lena. I glanced back at her, the body of the squirrel replaced with my horse self. I snorted as my body emerged, the sensation odd, even if well known. I had taken her because it was my duty, but I wanted to ask her the same question she posed me. Why was she here? What was this war even about?

Drawing up into myself, tall and lanky, I cast my long tail towards my front hooves. Ink sprouted eagerly from the tips, and I worked it into two dark horses as I thrust my tail, my brush, back and forth. One horse was plain, while another bore a horn. The two met, then rose up to rear and clash, falling into each other in an inky mess. Did it suffice? Some caught on faster than others. Curious I glanced up from my painting to her, wondering if she could 'talk' with me, or if I ought to try again.