Night. It was always night, it seemed, a world bathed in silver with cold, deep and dark shadows. Stars twinkled far above, and Irma soared gently through the sky on quiet wings, watching the ground with her bleached-out eyes. Sleeping, awake, patrolling, she saw them all, her keen gaze drawn to their movements before sweeping on again. All seemed at peace, in order, and somewhere far below her Mauja raised his white head to peer out across the Basin, to open his lungs and drink in the familiar night air. Had this place become home, then? Had his heart and mind forgotten the scent of brine, the lullaby of wind through trees, the cold, damp touch of fog on his legs? Had he accepted fate? Slowly his ears rotated back, an expression of indefinite sadness upon his face before he heaved a sigh. He could contemplate that another day (or night) — life was long, and if he had any say in it, he'd walk the forested halls of the Edge as King again before he died.

Irma slipped on through the skies, her wings rustling silently in the gentle night breeze. Moonlight glowed upon her, transforming her into a ghost of sorts, and giving her bonded a slight nudge she angled down. Locking her white appendages in a glide the owl swept lower, peering upon the dark form of Faelene, hidden in shadows. To her predator's eye she seemed tired, lurking not in the splendor of silver light but within the dark. Frowning, Mauja swept his ears forward again, and started to pick his way down from the mountainside. Was something wrong, or was she just sleeping?

Was something wrong...

He couldn't fool himself any longer, not that it had ever been his intention to fool himself — but, her scent had altered, subtly, and he knew what it meant. He just.. hadn't had the time nor peace to seek her out, or wonder what it meant, for him. That wasn't why they had... done... that... Some part of him had been hoping her body would not be so receptive, that something born in late summer would have low chances and that it was not worth the risk — but he was wrong. He just didn't know what to think about it, and, guiltily, he pressed his ears to his neck and closed his eyes for a moment. He had promised Leyra, but, he didn't know if he could do it.. especially not after this.

This wasn't, really, how it was meant to be.

Letting out a quiet sigh Mauja flicked his white tail. It was just to deal with it, and make the best of it. Time slowly wore on as he moved, a restless ghost, through the sheltered Basin, his hooves leaving a trail of quickly melting frost wherever he went. It was a calm night, beautiful, and, perhaps, it was the right night for this conversation to be had.. whatever it would be. He felt that he had no right to have opinions on it, as he was to blame, and it was not his body, and in all honesty, part of him was worried about this, what it would mean, to Psyche, the herd, Snö — he knew quite well how possessive his first daughter was of him. Clenching his teeth he finally spotted her, not too far from the pool where it all had happened, and he eased into a graceful trot, but couldn't help but throw a few glances at the surroundings.

Irma reassured him that they were alone, and Mauja tried to exhale some of the tension. "Hey," he called, gently, his lustrous glow fading the moment he stepped into the shadow of the sparse trees. She seemed exhausted, and he was not sure of what his reception would be. Would she scream at him? Maybe. Slowly he extended his neck, pushing his soft muzzle close to hers in greeting, wondering what the future had in store for them.