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Bronze hooves carried the stallion into the small group, madness and rage boiling just beneath the surface of his orbs. Ulrik owed the mare nothing. Where had she been when Mauja allowed the other species beyond his borders and then changed the rules at the cries of dissent. Loyalty was never one of Ulrik's strong suits, but he and the white king had gained an understanding of sorts, and where was that king now? Ulrik knew that he would not have run from this world simply because every mutt and bastard had thrown them out. Something happened, and the laws of nature pointed to the ambitious Psyche.
The tall, black beast remained on the outer fringes of the little conversation circle, his mechanical wolf whirring at his side as he noticed the creature he had given to the daughter of Mauja was also still functioning. If the machines could survive the winter frost in their metal joints, then they would survive the other seasons. The wind blew past his long beard that stretched down his neck and between his muscular forelegs and carried Psyche's voice like a sharp, grating whetstone to his ears. She wanted to attack. She wanted violence, and while he could not help but desire the same, they were all scattered and disorganized.
Finally, the deep, brutish beast spoke. "My alliance was with Mauja, not you," he rumbled before casting a wild, bronze stare and their new leader. With those words spoke, he turned and walked back into the mists of frost, intent on hatching his own plans once he had build an army of metal and machinery.
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a .p e n n y. for your thoughts [Plague Meeting]
