"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]