belladonna, in italian a beautiful lady; in english a deadly poison.

With newly won land bathed in blood and the glory of victory (though pathetically garnered it had been) came the same exodus of fools and cowards that Lakota had always witnessed. Pride was a loathful thing, and the Poisoner snorted to remember all the cases she had come across. Why did they flee with their whipped tails curled beneath their bellies - which would soon starve beneath the staggering weight of their own stupidity - when they could find shelter and future growth beneath an invader who was clearly more powerful? Why did they not remain at least to grow stronger beneath the tutelage of the new ruler and their warriors? It was useless for Lakota to attempt to understand, so different was she from the mindless beasts who hadn't deserved the home beneath their feet. So what if the old-Edge had taken it from them? They had offered to allow them to stay.

Nonetheless regardless of their idiotic reasonings lost to the pitiful labyrinths of their webbed, useless minds, it made Lakota's job all the harder. Of course there was no specific job for recruitment, but the Poisoner had watched her herd falter and fail once before after the invasion had decimated their numbers. It would not happen again. And with her Medic rank barred to her by Kitten (as she still ever-lovingly dubbed her, despite quiet protests from the other mare that she cheerfully ignored), the Falls was not a place she really desired to be. Though moving about with a swollen, ever-growing belly was difficult, the sapphire mare determined that exercise would do her and babe both some measure of good. Truthfully she was just avoiding the ever-growing tension she felt, the hormonal moodswings that she didn't desire to take out on her mate. Her mate whom was drifting ever further away from her, Lakota despaired.

But whatever. She didn't need Ktulu to make her feel needed, useful or loved. Lakota had taken care of herself for too long before the younger mare and she had met. So instead she threw herself (albeit a little recklessly, admittedly) into the realm of the gateway in which she'd met said mare. Leaves are thick and pregnant with their dewy autumn drops, and everything is moist and new with life and lushness. It was a beautiful concoction, one Lakota would never tire of through her seasons of habitation in Helovia. Pale pinkened nares fluttered like butterfly wings, taking in the natural scents around her. At her side, a small ivory bear strode at her side, a spot of even brighter color against the dark shades of green and brown the forest was displaying. Offsetting the paleness of her spine, the sapphire tones of her body which swelled beautifully, attractively, with soon-to-come life.

You need to stop hiding from 'Tulu, Aodaun noted calmly, lime green eyes never leaving the horizon, his own more sensitive nose placed to the test. The Threshold was all a matter of the quickest to snatch up the newcomer, after all. Lakota did not intend to lose in that regard. Pregnant or not. "I am not hiding from her," she grumped softly, too used to speaking aloud to the polar bear even when she could easily communicate with him in her mind. "If she wants Archibald to heal her, very well. It's what she wishes, and I'll respect that." Ao snorted harshly, glancing at her briefly with clearly disbelieving eyes. You're jealous. Lakota snarled defensively, but before that could spiral into another matter entirely, Aodaun whipped his head around.

There's someone here. Lakota could have exclaimed 'goody!' for all that meant to her, letting her avoid the subject. With Aodaun taking the lead with his sharper nose she twined around and through the foliage, steps light and dainty even with her swollen sides. So small was she that her large foal-belly made her seem as if she'd break any moment, but it did little to detract from her captivating violets and the intense stare they were placed inside.

The stallion was pale, obvious on the backdrop as her companion was. "Welcome to Helovia, stranger," she purred, like silk over a silver dagger, beautiful but with a hint of ever-present danger. Aodaun growled softly both in greeting and in warning, leaning protectively against Lakota's left foreleg. He never had liked strangers, they were too volatile at times, and he could not determine what they were like until it was often too late.

Lakota