She had come to the conclusion that to be lost was to be lacking. If she were to wander around willy-nilly, not paying the least bit of attention to where she was going, or maybe if she had never been taught how to find her way, then she would be lacking a sense of direction or perhaps an interest in her surroundings. Or if her mind meandered on its own path, taking her unwillingly through unwanted memories or unwarranted daydreams, she was lacking control of herself. It was this problem with which she found herself more often than not, these days. Ever since Mauja's disappearance and her subsequent promotion, she had found herself thinking, ever thinking, constant plans and emotions and questions tumbling around her cranium in an incessant cacophony of everything there ever was for anyone to think about. Or so she felt.

Was she lost? The strange little stallion she had met only a few days previously had seemed to think so. Wing-Hunter, he had called her, his multi-colored body disappearing amongst the drifts, only to pop back out again, a strange game of hide and seek, question and answer. Had she emerged from the meeting with answers? She was unsure. But then, she always was, these days. She sighed, and a puff of moisture from her nostrils materialized in the frigid air for a moment before wafting away in the wind. She watched it go, silent, then resumed her march. Psyche the Winghunter, she thought, and it amused her, her private name.

A little speck moved in the distance, and the shadow-mare pricked her lobes, her attention caught. Finally, something for distract her from those oh-so-persistent thoughts rattling around in her head. A cruel smile played on her lips. Perhaps it would be a trespasser, and she would be able to punish them for daring wander into her realm. It was odd that she would regard it as such, as hers, when she vehemently clung to a deeply rooted hatred of the Steppe. But maybe this was simply a part of her ascension to power. She may hate it, but it was hers, and she would protect it with her dying breath. At least until something better came along.

The speck, she saw upon her approach, turned out to be a pretty golden unicorn mare. She had a dark pelt covered with amber dapples, a creamy banner, darkened at the tips. Black spiral horns protruded from her forehead, causing the wing-hunter to greet the newcomer with a smile. It was a smile devoid of true happiness, as hers always were, and rather poisonously sweet, but it was a smile nonetheless. She seemed to be a bit unkept, as though she had traveled quite the distance. But no matter, she was new blood, and she was pure blood, and this was all that the shadow-mare required. "Well, hello, dear," she told the golden girl, her tones a bit too sweet, just the slightest bit seductive. "Might I ask what brings you to my home on such a lovely day as this?"

[W/C | 510]

Walk walk walk.
Talk talk talk.
Think think think.

She knows that her persona is a bit off-putting, and yet she does nothing to change it. Perhaps she likes making others uncomfortable, or forcing their guard up. And perhaps she is foolish; would she not be better off winning over newcomers, coaxing them to her side? But no: they were either with her, or they weren't. If they would not align with her beliefs, she would hold against them no grudge, unless they insisted on consorting with the impure, as her dear brother Paladin did. Ugh. Just the thought of he and that broodmare of his, Soleil, and their many, many children made her shudder. How could he stand to touch such an inferior creature, much less claim love for her and sire her children? Disgusting.

The mare in front of her spoke in polite, but firm tones, implying that while she was no pushover, she was aware that she was the intruder in the situation. Oh, she may not truly be labelled as such, seeing as the Steppe was an open land, but the shadow-mare was rather firm in her belief that the land was hers. "Oh, silly me," she conceded, "I suppose it's not really home, more a temporary point of interest. Regardless, such a lovely creature of my own kind is always welcome here. Do walk with me, dear." She smiled again, and it was a tad more friendly this time, though her tones remained alluring.

The fae's words had hinted at racism, but the jackal had no interest in playing such politically correct games. "I can offer you more than just a home, dearie," she informed her new companion, turning to head for the safety of the herd. How she could tell the proper direction or make out any landmarks in this gods-forsaken land, no one would ever know, but she did. It had become easy over the course of Frostfall. Hooves picked up, skimming the top of the snow drifts. She had found this was easier than trying to shuffle or plow through the stuff. It was light today; it only came up to her pastern in most places. "Not everyone who resides here feels as strongly as I, but I do have several who have pledged their allegiance to what I'm sure you would agree is a noble cause. We, the superior race, will one day reign supreme, and I'm sure that one such as yourself would be most helpful in getting there."

[W/C | 410]

Walk walk walk.
Talk talk talk.
Think think think.

The mare's inquiry turned her mood sour. She fought hard to keep the memories of a rather embarrassing defeat in their own territory out of her mind, but it seemed that it was something she could not escape. Luckily, she had not been in charge then, and so she could place the blame on her predecessor. The thoughts of Mauja clamored for attention, but she pushed them back; she was busy, and they were interrupting. Frankly, if he could not be there when he was needed most, she had no use for him, though perhaps that was her grief talking. "It is a rather unfortunate story, really," she informed the mare. "My predecessor failed to properly protect our kin. The land that was once ours is now tainted by impurity, and so we reside here to regain our strength."

And it was going well, regaining strength. They had recruited many who shared their views, and even those who were old hands at the game they played thirsted for the blood of those who had ousted them. The mare introduced herself, and her obvious distaste for the inferior species brought a smile to her lips. In return, she offered the following explanation: "I am Psyche, and I am indeed the leader of this organization. We are called the Plague, and we thirst for the blood of any who do not share our superior heritage. Our skyrats, I'm sure, are no different that those in the land from which you came, and our hornless are even worse." Disgust colored her vocals. "We would welcome you to our group, dear Stellaluna. I'm sure that you would prove yourself a wonderful asset."

[W/C | 278]

Walk walk walk.
Talk talk talk.
Think think think.