"So you thought that you would simply frolic with one lesser than you, did you, Xanthos?"

The words, cold with fury, were followed by a heated glare, orange eyes nearly glowing with anger. She had suspected that this might happen, of course. He had never been the most outspoken of her brethren, but she had thought that she had made herself clear. His loyalty was to the Plague and, therefore, to her. To break that bond was to put oneself into a position lower than the slaves, for at least they could be counted on to know their place. Treason was a crime punishable by death, and the shadow-mare would have no qualms about carrying out such a punishment. In fact, it had been far too long since she had killed, and what better opponent than the liar in their midst?

But.

The word stood sharply in her mind, its taste metallic on her tongue. At one time, the decision would have been easy for her, but now she had a larger picture to consider. If she killed him now, that was one less for her cause, and one less for her herd. That was one less soldier on the imminent battlefield, one less piece on the metaphorical chess board. And he had returned to the Steppe, knowing his fate, knowing that punishment awaited him not only at the hands of Psyche, but also Elizabeth, his Corporal. In fact, Psyche was sorely tempted to simply leave the fool to her silver-tongued comrade. Why should she waste her energy on such swine? Wasn't that why she had made the decision to delegate?

A mental sigh accompanied a simple answer: no. This problem was hers alone to solve. Oh, how it frustrated her! He was such an excellent specimen of a unicorn. His genes would give rise to excellence, if he chose to sow them the right way. He could be proud, superior in every way, and instead he chose - he chose! - to just give all of that up for the chance to race about like an idiot with some hornless wreck of a creature. It disgusted her. How could he even stand to be in such proximity to her? Her outrage was palpable, almost sparking in the air around her, fire burning in her belly, writhing up her neck, glowing in her eyes. How dare he betray them?!

"Get up!" she hissed, lobes flattened against her skull. She stalked back and forth, pacing in front of him, waiting for him to rise and accept his punishment like a warrior. Not wallow about in the snow as though he was a foal. No, even foals had more sense than this lout! "What have you got to say for yourself, then, you fool?" If she wasn't going to kill him, and she had decided that she wasn't, then she may as well waste more time hearing some pathetic excuse that would no doubt be a lie.

[W/C | 495]

Well, at least he was owning up to his grave mistake. His demeanor was one of utter submission and apology, a stark contrast to her own stance of hostility and power. Her head was high, the haughty, proud look on her features showing precisely what she thought of him and his little excursion. His words were correct, but still, her amber gaze narrowed. He had answered her question, but avoided the why of the matter, and this was what she was most interested in. Oh, she knew the answer of course - he was not as married to their ideals as his betters, not as devoted to her cause as the others. He had always been a bad mark on their hide, and she had never trusted him, and now she knew why. But she wanted to hear him say it.

But before she could tell him as much, he was again speaking, and she couldn't believe her auds. "Punish me as you see fit, but I beg of you, leave the mare be, and I will do as you wish." She stared at him, enraged beyond words, but this lasted only for a moment; then her actions exploded out of her in a whirlwind of fury. "You dare!" she shrieked, eyes wild with burning hatred. "You dare risk your life for that thing? You think that by offering your pathetic little self to our cause, by enslaving yourself to us, we will spare your little hornless friend?" she sneered, her voice the screeching scream of a demonic banshee.

And then it lowered in decibel, taking on a menacing, almost mad, cackling quality, her eyes sparking with the insanity of her bloodlines. She giggled, and it was the sound of prison doors slamming in his face. "Well, fool, so be it. Your punishment is this: you will remain within the borders of the Steppe. If you so much as think about leaving, running, whatever sad plan you can dream up in that idiotic head of yours, I will kill your little friend, with you there to watch. It will be slow and it will be painful, and I will relish every second of it." Her voice had lowered to a menacing hiss as she stalked closer to him, her head high above his, pressing him with all the authority that she could muster.

His position was lower than even Sno's slave, Rapha, basically akin to the prisoners of war that they had so desperately sought. Perhaps she should hand his pathetic hide over to Stellaluna, the torturer, and allow her to punish him in her own way, to draw screams of pain and pleads for mercy from his traitorous throat. Or, better yet, when he broke her rules (which she was sure he would), she would make him kill the equine mare himself, with her standing by to watch. Yes, that would be the ultimate revenge. But for now, he would live, and be confined to the herd, forbidden to leave. She glared at him one last time, then skirted him to greet Elizabeth. "Find the mare, and harm her as you please. Don't kill her. I'd like to reserve that for our dear traitor." The words were softly spoken, and it was unlikely he would hear her command. Even so, he was forbidden to leave, and his attempted assistance would only hurt the mare further.

[W/C | 566]

Had Mauja truly chosen such an ignorant band of fools to be in his herd? For all the good they did, he could have just let them go join the skyrats and sing "Kumbaya" around the campfire! Her fury, quelled by her outburst and Elizabeth's agreement with her orders, raised its ugly head once more, crackling with the fiery passion that fueled her actions. The red-maned fae truly didn't understand how things worked, did she? This was not a matter of the ex-Edge, this was a matter of the Plague, and she simply did not belong. Perhaps she could, if she so chose to join them, but she had not as yet, and as such had no say in the actions of the Crux. Amber gaze narrowed into a withering glare, lobes flattened against her nape. Her cranium raised, a motion both of defiance and leadership. She matched the mare's vocals, retaining a calm, collected tone, though it was colored with the sarcasm that was so typical of the shadow-mare.

"Well, darling, one insignificant racist unicorn wouldn't draw any attention to anyone. No offense, Elizabeth, but that is how it would appear, dear." A small smile graced Faelene, and though it was not devoid of cruetly, it was a more subtle blend than normal, a smile created just for her. "Do you truly think that I would jeopardize this herd, dear, when it isn't mine to destroy?" It was the truth. She was, of course, concerned for the safety of the herd, as she felt that it was her responsibility to care for them in the FrostHeart's absence (though she was sorely regretting that obligation now), though her intentions were more centered on the Plague. "Perhaps kindness would be welcomed, were it faked kindness; but truthfully this is none of your concern. It is not a question of the exiled herd, of which Xanthos was not a part. You are right, I may not be your queen, but there are some who would follow my lead. That is the path he has chosen, and so he will answer to me in matters such as this."

Who did she think she was, anyway, to insert herself into a situation of which she had no part? And then for Xanthos, the insufferable fool, to dare agree with her, to raise his voice in the situation. But the shadow-mare, learning diplomacy, resisted the urge to bare her teeth and snap at him, instead allowing only a slight flare of annoyance in her nostrils. It may not go unnoticed, but it was self-control, nonetheless. And then, a smaller voice, from a smaller being - a young unicorn foal was asking the traitor if he was alright. I am surrounded by idiots. She eyed the youngling impassively, also electing to remain silent to his appearance. Yes, the best thing to do for now was to allow the red-maned to speak her piece. They would win no battles against themselves, that was for sure, and if her passions could be turned to their side, she may prove an asset yet.

[W/C | 514]