It was true that any reasonable creature would be asleep at an hour such as this. And Ashamin was reasonable, and he was certainly tired. After learning of his promotion and being quite literally struck by lightning of a sort, he has made the tired journey towards the Haruspex cave that, as he had discovered, was to be his new home. There he had seen the mirror of time, and before it he had stood for hours, searching, seeking some sort of knowledge.

But perhaps it was simply not ready to reveal itself yet, perhaps the sky had not yet been dark enough; he had seen nothing in its depths.

And so it was expected that after so long searching and coming up empty, the buck would eventually drift off into sleep. What wasn't expected was the stirring against his breath. Had the egg moved in the night, had it even hatched? Ashamin had woken, excited at the prospect of opening his eyes to see new life, but found the shell to be still intact. Whatever lived within was taking its time.

The tricolored stallion had found it impossible to find sleep once again. Restless he had wandered, leaving the entrance of the cave and the mirror locked within it behind him. There, too, he had left the egg, tucked in the shadow of a rock, lying on a soft bed of dried grasses--his makeshift nest. The sarong that Zahra had crafted for him with such care, having no weight to bear in the front, had inched its way across and around his frame, and draped itself like a cape across his withers and back. As he walked the cool midnight breeze stirred its cloth. When he stopped, eyes up and wide, staring at the figure descending, it almost fell straight to the earth.

Ashamin caught the silk and lifted it back over himself like a blanket, and by the time he could turn his gaze upwards once more, the figure had landed. He saw her in the distance, a shadow dark and complete, and instinct compelled him forward. He had not known many in his herd until the herd meeting, but now there were face and figures he recognized. This was not one of them.

And though he intended no harm, he walked forth with a warrior's posture, creating an image of confidence as best as he could and in spite of the faint dragging of his hind hoof through the snow. Another reached the trespasser before him; even from the distance, he could hear her words, taste the hostile bite in their tone.

That mare, the one with the hurt in her voice, was one he did recognize: Ki'irha, one of the others among the promoted ranks. He approached at the best pace he could manage, coming up alongside her. His black eyes were trained on the unfamiliar mare as best as possible. He thanked the moon for the light it reflected off of the snow--the only light he could see her by.

"Ki'irha," Ashamin whispered in recognition--not loud enough, he was certain, for anyone other than her to hear. The corporal. Hadn't that been a rank he'd seen himself seeking, a path he'd intended to follow? And where was he now, chosen by a god and a stroke of electricity for some other line in life? Still, he would not let the warrior he sought in himself be lost, he would simply temper it with the wisdom he was now meant (how, he did not know,) to have. When he reached out to touch his cheek to the mare of dark blue, it was not only in the respect of his typical greeting, but also in hopes of diffusing her tension. She was striking, with her midnight blue coat, but if her words here meant anything, she was nothing like the other blue one Ashamin had so recently met.

"Traveller, you seem to have lost your way," Ashamin said with gentleness. He no longer shook before he spoke, no longer feared the response that would come his way. Let everything strike him now, let anything make him bleed. And so, though he spoke to the stranger with the kindness of giving her a chance to explain himself, he had in his heart still the readiness to fight: the willingness to protect, if that was what it came to.


[[[Shadow], [Ki'irha]--Fine by me! Excited to thread with you both, sorry for the wait, been very busy.]]

Ashamin