Despite his mind being caught up in a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts, Roland didn’t miss the discrete eye roll that the steel gray stallion cast him. He still felt awkward and out of place amongst the herd of hardened, acclimatized unicorns, seeing himself as a sort of rose among thorns, but he had swallowed his inhibitions in order to understand the matter at hand. A slight frown creased his forehead as a strong gale pulled at his mane and howled through every crevice in the mountain side, but he held his tongue. Self preservation was always at the forefront of his mind and he’d hate to get on the wrong side of the two standing before him, especially when a hellhound stood at their feet. He eyed it with guarded curiousity, having seen very few in his life.

As the clattering of rocks sounded from behind him Roland turned to face the ascending slope of the mountain, eyes coming to rest on the pale spotted form of Mauja. The last time they had met had been by the hot springs, when the Frostheart and others had welcomed him into their ranks as a Phantom. Though he hadn’t exactly been kind to begin with, they had parted on better terms and Roland did not think poorly of the stallion. The amount of respect he’d gained for Mauja meant he was a very welcome face in a situation the dun didn’t quite feel at ease in. He did not smile or even call out in greeting, but simply bowed his head a fraction in acknowledgement.

Mauja’s voice was icy and threatening, echoing off the stone walls as he approached with snow rippling around his hooves. Anger seemed to pour from him in waves as he neared, frosty gaze fixed on the pale stallion one could only assume was Zar’roc. Roland retreated a step, mindful of his footing as he maneuvered backwards over the steep slope. He wanted no part in this argument and already regretted his decision to investigate; clearly this wasn’t something he should become tangled in. Nervously his eyes tracked the dark drops of blood that pockmarked the snow, leaving a crimson trail in the wake of the fleeing mare. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as Roland drew his gaze from the red ground and eyed the trio before him.

He found himself holding back a grimace at Zar’roc’s words, pulse quickening in his chest as he fought down frustration and repulsion. What exactly was going on here? He had lived alongside the Pegasi once, grown close enough to call them kin, and had never once thought poorly of them because of their lack of wings. Blinking slowly, he ignored the bitter taste in his mouth and filled his lungs with cool mountain air. A shadow seemed to have been cast over the sun itself, and despite its presence above them in the sky Roland felt no warmth upon his skin. “Perhaps a wiser move would have been to take the mare to Psyche? She’s no good to us now that she’s run away,” he ventured cautiously, knowing he had no real authority to make suggestions in this situation; but he threw caution to the wind and did so anyways, biting back every other comment he would have wished to add in.

walk walk walk
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