They appear, swarming like mayflies around a bloated corpse. She is not the only buzzard, and as more (women) flow into the clearing the girl grows anxious, uncomfortable at the sudden explosion of this intimate scene. With bright voices and brighter magic the medics storm the battlefield, and the Fire Dancer slinks away from the moon doctors, painfully aware of the confidence the women exude, the familiarity with the patients and the way they take charge. She is a flickering nurse beneath these surgeons, and she is blinded by the strength of their power; she steps back, giving them space, black eyes wide and observant as two-toned ears try to make sense of the mess.

Which is not to say she is not grateful- she looks upon the mares with some amount of relief, happy to leave things in their authoritative care. She is particularly fond to see the medic from the Caves; under different circumstances the may have run to her, thanked her for the part the paint played in saving the Fire Dancer's own life. But the sensation of their abilities, coupled with the latent fire which caused this issue is overwhelming to the sensitive girl, who sees and tastes and hears the magic with every sense available. Her embers still linger on the spotted beast's (Mauja's) hide, still sink and surge over his (Mauja's) wound, knitting burnt skin and glittering in the mist as pink skin rises from the red on Mauja's-

Mauja.

Wait.

I know that name.

Puzzle pieces fall into place, stories connected by a single thread, a familiar name- Mauja the FrostHeart, frozen king, age old foe of her entire clan. The burning of Mirage's body means something else, now; her own presence here means something else now, and the girl reels with the realization, blinking as she tries to achieve comprehension and miserably failing. Have all her steps led her here, to the side of her family's enemy where she acts as a source of salvation, rather than vengeance? Is this justice?- is justice real? Should she even judge this man based on her family's history, their triumphs and sin?

Does she have a choice?

Slowly, unremarkably, the copper child backs away. There are too many people, too much commotion for anyone to care; and besides, she has done her duty here. Let the issue remain in the care of those who care, who are capable and confident and have more understanding of the situation than a girl who lives beneath her family's shadow. At her hooves her brother follows, worried by this change in mood; they leave as quietly as they came, Fire Dancer dancing from the flaming wreck.