White is the color of purity, or so they say. A color of that untouched by those things which would be considered sins. It is a color of innocence, or cleansing. And so it was utterly wrong for the straggling herd to gather in the home of such a color.

Unbelievable. The feeling of defeat permeated every pore of the shadow-mare's dark bodice, so obvious against the winter landscape as she escaped the Edge. How unbelievable it was that she should return, and Mauja should accept her return, only for them to be ousted from their home. How could this happen? How could she have let this happen? The light injuries at her nape and hindquarter had crusted over with dried blood by now, but it was the aches in her right shoulder and left side that reminded her of her failures on the battlefield. She was not weak, she had never been this weak. Even when she had been pregnant, she had ruled the Plague. Was it the birthing that had made her weak? Or was it running away, foal in tow, and spending months in solitude? Was she just out of practice, or was it motherhood that had done this to her? Never had she walked away from a fight in such a state. And so she trudged on.

Memories washed over her: her first kills became fresh once more in her mind. She could smell their fear, she could see it in her eyes. She terrified them. She showed no mercy, and the foolish Pegasi didn't even fight back, didn't think to fly. Their panic was a drug, and she was filled with a heady arrogance, a pride in her race, so clearly superior. It had been so easy. Amber orbs closed, remembering the ease with which she had once triumphed in battle. But this battle, this invasion, this moment when she had everything to fight for and everything to lose, when she had been called to fight for her home, for her king - though she barely acknowledged the FrostHeart and such a superior - in this battle, she had failed. Why had she failed? Her thoughts spiraled down into the depths of her memories, and the look on her father's face the first time she met him, a look of disgust at her plain appearance, flashed before her eyes. But she was the one who had sought to continue his legacy. Paladin, with his crimson coloring, had become a traitor, and Giselle, well, where had she been? Psyche had travelled, formed a group dedicated to her father's ideology - but where was the approval for which she had so craved?

Her father was gone. Her mother was gone, and at his hand. Paladin was as dead to her as if he was buried in the earth, and Giselle had deserted her. Her family had left her; she had left her home. Had she stayed, would this have happened? No, she musn't blame herself - and yet, in these past few seasons, what had she done right? She had allowed herself to be wooed into motherhood. She had run from her home for fear of Mauja. She hadn't done well enough as a mother to keep Sno from running home to daddy. She had returned, to find that Mauja had clearly moved on and that her home was expendable. She had fought for everything she had lost, and she had failed. Did that make her more lost?

There they were, in the distance, their straggling herd. Some were battle-scarred as she, but others had clearly sat out the fighting. A pregnant mare, and one who had clearly just given birth stood out, but she didn't care to continue the differentiation. If Mauja would keep them, then they were a part of the herd, and they would need as many as may be if they were to take their home back. If that was a part of the plan, of course. The shadow-mare silently slid into the back of the gathering, wishing for a private moment with the FrostHeart, wishing that she had words to describe the desolation that she felt, and knowing full well that no words of her inner turmoil would be spoken. This, too, would pass, and she would be strong once more. If he would let her, she would lead the attack on the Qian to take their home back. She would do whatever it took to return, for a third time, and to show those idiotic equalists that they were truly no match for the unicorn race. This and more crossed her mind as she stood, close enough to be part of the group but far enough to be estranged from the family. She would get her revenge, and it would be tenfold on those who had dared to defy them. She would enjoy watching their blood run.

[W/C | 816]