A graveyard of memories was an apt description for the Fields. The withered grass peering from beneath swathes of silver were headstones; the hoof prints she was following (bleak crescents against the snow) the only remains of corpses and cadavers long decayed into the earth. And following her, all around her, were the ghostly visions of Kid safe beneath her hooves, Kid's white face and pink eyes, Kid stammering and stumbling—and then, in raging juxtaposition, Volterra's violent eyes and violent face and violent bones. He abandoned him. He did what no man should do.

More than anything she was more angry, but beneath her frustration were residual taints of decaying misery and despair, and even deeper below that (topsoil, subsoil, bedrock) old and weathered jealousy.

There were a thousand things she could say to him (to make up for her own arrogance and shortcomings) but she didn't want to say anything at all. She was so done—wasn't her time better spent in her solitude? Wasn't her time better spent quietly admiring Kid (for tolerating his mother, for being as brave as could be?) He had more bravery than her. We should fetch mother, Volterra had said (or something like that—she didn't remember what he said so much as his face)—and she'd wondered if they were better leaving Confutatis in jail. No: she hadn't wondered, she had decided. Unlike Kid, she couldn't bear to face the wrath of her mother.

I was always a coward Lilómiel.

The dragon snorted, swooping downwards. They had spent most of the day hunting together, Lil soaring and swooping for songbirds, and Nymeria on foot seeking for secrets. Now his stomach was laden with the weight of young songbirds; now, feathers caught between his teeth and flame dripping off his tongue, he was off to find one more. This, in typical awkwardness, was how Nymeria and him came across Roux: Lil was hunting the red kite.

Snow crackled and crunched beneath her hooves as she approached, head lowering. She peered up at Roux from between hooded lashes, neither friendly nor unfriendly, simply there and watching: and instead of saying anything she said nothing at all.

I wasn't surprised in the slightest at the sound of my cracked ivories clashing together in the avian's absence, there never was truly any desire to hurt the bird no matter how annoying he could get. Rather the surprise that rushed through my bloodied frame was brought on by the sudden, and silent appearance of the masked mare and her reptilian companion that chased Edison around for a second before the kite returned to his perch on my withers, feathers ruffled more than I had ever seen them. "Stupid lizard." The irritated words echoed in my mind as I bit back a deep chuckle while moon eyes settled on the long white lashes the mare was peering at me through.

How peculiar, to just appear out of no where in the middle of the night. To creep up on a stranger silently and then just stare at them. My monochrome gaze shifted over her body slightly, standing maybe an inch taller than me, but otherwise I didn't think she was too spectacular. The lack of a horn piercing through her forehead was enough to discredit any looks that I could have thought she had otherwise. Returning to settle my gaze upon her features, unimpressed, I locked in on her eyes that I couldn't quite place a color to in this lighting, or any lighting for that matter.

After a few moments of drawn out eye contact I shifted my weight back, growing uncomfortable in my current social situations as I tended to do so in any social outings. Ink stained ears pinned back into naturally tangled tresses as my pierced skull tilted to the side in an irritated confusion. "Can I help you?" My deep voice finally breaks the silence between us, as the red kite continues to sulk from his perch, beady eyes watching the dragon carefully, not wanting to have his back turned to the lizard for long.

"Speech."

Nymeria watched.

The kite—red-hued and blushed with white—folded his wings in eloquent exclamation, landing upon his bonded’s back with a rustle. Bright eyes flashed towards her, reflecting starlight. Nymeria shifted uncomfortably in answer. Her own dragon (dark, sleek, so expertly blended upon the stars that he was a nigh-invisible silhouette) drifted downwards in an expression of humble servitude, circling to roost upon her scarred withers. For once he was strangely graceful—he landed so lightly his presence was almost imperceptible. It was that more than anything which uneased her; she sought the familiarity of his thoughts, and found him resistant to her gentle touch.

What are you doing? She asked warily.

He had no answer forthcoming; instead, the dragon’s tongue flickered between his opalescent teeth. The air tasted like spring was on its way—and it tasted warmly of horseflesh. Morbid curiosity seeped in between Nym’s logical assumptions, contemplations, and conclusions. It was not her emotion; Nymeria tensed, sinew knotting and writhing into commanding configuration. She straightened, neck arching pre-emptively, weight coiling and redistributing across all fours. With the moonlight in her hair and the dragon at her spine, she cut an unforgivably warlike figure. It was not for the stallion’s benefit (although it would be untrue of her to say she did not want to intimidate him, at least a tiny bit.) All she knew was that Lilómiel was full to bursting and yet hollow with malicious needs.

The wolf cued to him, through the tiniest flicker of her ears, that eating companions was not acceptable behavioral practice. He responded with horrified claims of virtue. You’re a foul creature, she thought, but there was a fondness to her mockery.

Then, without waiting further, she halved the distance between herself and the stranger. A low and strange smile carved a haunting greeting upon her countenance. “Hello,” she said pleasantly, forgoing the nature of his inquiry. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten turned around. Do you by chance know where the World’s Edge is?” She blinked at Roux friendly-like, fitting herself with yet another layer of precious, happy fool. It was a disguise she neither liked nor used often, but she figured it was better to play an idiot than a spy. “I was just wanting to visit a friend you see, and now… well,” (a titter) “I haven’t the faintest idea of where I am.”

I couldn't help but feel mildly uncomfortable in the masked mare's presence and for once in my life I was pleased by the fact that my unmarked features tend to do a good job of keeping my emotions tucked away beneath my zygomatic bones. Black dipped ears flicked back against my tangled mane before flipping back to her, warily watching the slight interactions between her lizard and herself. It was interesting to see how differently we all communicated with the beasts that share half of our minds. I wondered momentarily what Edison and I looked like to the outside world, both of us painted in blood, but still so very different in our personalities. Me being the more emotion driven of the two of us, even if I was good at hiding the fact that I allowed my subconscious to drag me through the dirt.

In the midst of my thoughts I didn't notice the masked stranger step closer, at least halving the distance between us, "Roux." Edison's screeching voice, as you would expect an avian to have, broke through my thoughts as he attempted to alert me of the impeding creature. His discomfort after being chased by the flying reptile was still evident and I'm sure it was nearly written in bold across his face. Monochrome eyes focused in on the mare's face just as a sickening smile, that I assumed would have been attractive had I thought she was attractive, twisted her monochromatic features before a trill voice broke through the silence of the icy world around us. “Hello, I’m afraid I’ve gotten turned around. Do you by chance know where the World’s Edge is?” I thought over the map of the lands that I had traveled in my time pointlessly hunting for my family. But before I had a chance to speak up and inform the mare that she was in fact turned around and she should probably try again, she was speaking again.

Pass "go" don't collect $200.

“I was just wanting to visit a friend you see, and now… well, I haven’t the faintest idea of where I am.” A very feminine giggle spilled from her lips, it seemed almost unnatural against the mark of death painted on her plain features. A shiver passed through my bloodied frame as I took a half step away from the mare who's behavior just seemed off. "You are definitely not at the Edge of the world. I'm sure your friend is missing you." I supposed if she really needed the assistance I could lead her about halfway to the misty lands that I had been held captive in as a child. But then I had to turn around and go back to the Basin where I belonged and try to put together the pieces that my father and brother had left shattered in the snow.

"Speech."