Though that damned wound smarted, albeit dully in heavy throbbing thumps like a hammer blow with each step, the cold --combined with her natural determination-- was invigorating enough that she managed to not hold them back too much; at least not to the point where she would be really embarrassed. Surrounded by a deafening white wall of snow, angled such that it was tossed about lazily, the doe's senses sharpened through that annoying cramp all too common among wounds healed with preternatural speed. The trade-off, as her new flesh shifted to accommodate like teenage growing pains, that she must endure.  

But she knew better than to push herself too hard, a reality that left her chagrined. Enna had left them, which made her feel a degree of longing, something she would normally abhor; Sartura's chill would fit in just fine with her new home, her ruby heart glittering and cold, and yet she took to the other one so much like her, still feeling the imparted warmth of her magic working to knit her shoulder back together. Although she could not be absolutely sure there was no ulterior motive behind the healing, despite the frank and genuine response to her gratitude, it seemed almost irrelevant now. She did not feel unsafe or mislead; much to the contrary, she was excited and accepted. She had lived in a loose family unit, nomadic and superstitious, but many months were spent alone after she had broken away to carve out her own story. It was a refreshing change to have a companion, and the realization allowed her to focus on Ki'irha, instead of brooding. The cognate doe may have went ahead, but still at her own side was the other crowned mare. The one that extended her the proverbial olive branch and offered to take her within their fold. The warrior, the tigress -- she may share a physical appearance with Enna, but her fighter's spirit recognized Ki'irha's. 

As great fields of pristine virgin snow begin to sprout tracks of emerald evergreens, Sartura's awe swells just as the stark grey mountains of the Basin's threshold rise around them. "Not in the least," she quips casually in response to Ki'irha's remark about the weather, soaking in the smorgasbord of cruel beauty that was this new land with a greedy, hungry gaze. It was breathtaking; even the sleeping giants of the smaller mountain ranges that flanked them as they traveled higher and further, as magnificent and ancient as they were, paled in magnitude and character to the fortress that protected the Aurora Basin. There were faint faces in the rock facade, malformed and warped, gargoyles that seemed to guard the portal in, staring balefully down at her. As if waiting to appeal a token riddle for her safe passage.

Despite the free-falling snow that laid a powdery blanket across every surface, it was alive; rich in color that popped, sunlight breaking on the lake's surface and glittering like a jeweler's prize, the faint call of black-tipped geese as they lounged at the shores. Shapes in the distant appeared to be other unicorns; her pleasure grew at such a sight. She did not feel anything particular about those that lacked the coronal blessing, no hatred or disgust, but she preferred her kind.

Turning back to the frosted blue unicorn, she offered a cultured smile. "I understand. I do not mind waiting. I appreciate the... extra security." Sartura takes a moment to mull over the discussion of ranks; she had a clear vision of herself down a path she knew she wanted to, no MUST, follow. Her calling, the thing that sang in her blood and drove her into each following day with purpose and clarity. "I would be honored to serve under you as one of your warriors, Corporal."