She had never seen the aurora borealis quite like this before.

Brilliant shades of green, blue, and purple lit the night sky, illuminating what lay beneath as the moonless sphere itself did not. It was odd, how it looked from here. It was clear, starkly so, standing out with a certain radiance that the rays were lacking in the Steppe. It was so noticeable, in fact, that it stopped the generally unmoved Dark Empress in her tracks, calling her sharp, amber gaze skywards. She watched emotionlessly, and only for a moment, but she watched nonetheless. And then she was moving, pistons striking an easy path through the snowless Basin, carrying her swiftly over the terrain warmed by hot springs and sheltered by the mountains.

The night was where she found solace, where she felt the most herself. The others slept at night, and she was free, for a short time, from their prying eyes, constantly watching her, constantly asking her if she deserved their loyalty. They would not say it; no, they would not go against the god in such a way, but they thought it, and it shone from their orbs like a persistent flame, refusing to go out. Their lips may say one thing, but their eyes spoke more than their tongues ever would. The eyes were the window to the soul, they said, and never had it been truer for the shadow-mare.

The shade was silent as she moved through the trees, shielding herself and, therefore, her position, from any wandering eyes. As late as it was, anything could happen at any time, and she intended to be prepared. Her pelt blended into the night as she became one with the darkness, melding easily into shadows as though she were born of them. Perhaps she was. Regardless, it was this talent that allowed her to observe the newcomer, a painted stallion with a curved horn, as he made his way across her border. She hadn't realized that she had come this far, to be at the mouth of the pass, but then, she hadn't truly been paying attention to her path. Regardless, she followed him silently, watching as he dipped his maw into her lake, drinking her water, as though he belonged.

But she did not know him, and so he did not yet belong. She slid forward on still-silent hooves, easing into a position on his right. Observing him with cool orange eyes, she spoke, her vocals soft so as not to disturb any who may be nearby. "Where I come from, it would be considered rude to simply invite oneself to a drink in a foreign herd's land," she said. Her tone was playful, perhaps even a bit flirtatious, the kind of voice that called like a serpent's eyes as it reels in its prey. But her orbs were dangerous, a gentle warning, but a warning nonetheless. Who was he, and why was he here?

[W/C | ---]

---

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