Ah yes, the twisted fogs of the Spectral Marsh.

Last Lakota had ventured into the murky depths, she'd gone face to face with a foul mouthed sexist unicorn that had tempted her into sinking her poisonous cloud into the depths of his lungs. It was also where she met the mare she'd dubbed Miss Perfect, Nadira. Really, Lakota was almost sickened by the fact she was nearly godly in appearance, because really who was she to go through life and come out of it like that? Lakota proudly wore her dark scarred knees and shoulders, the coldness of her visage. It was a badge of honor, a simple show of the rank she proudly took on as a soldier and a mercenary. She'd been a princess, and still looked pretty damn awesome, if she said so herself. Well, she didn't find herself attractive, she wasn't vain, but strength and wisdom was what she had to show through her experiences.

Beside her, innocence walked. They were an odd pair, truthfully. Lakota was not pure, in any other way than perhaps sexual- as awkward as that made her feel, because she didn't like feeling like a flustered filly- and Aodaun was still so very young and bright. At times, she felt like she was tainting him simply by becoming bonded with him. Yet, every time she thought such things, he would return with such pure love she nearly felt her tear ducts actually start to work for the first time in too many years. Of course they never came. Tears were for the weak, and never would mercury stain her dark cheeks if she could prevent it.

Of course, the cub could not wallow through muck far too deep for his tiny body. Kneeling good-naturedly, Kota prepared herself for a trip that wasn't often taken by the two of them. Growling happily the polar bear child clambered up her side and onto her back, settling on the snowy white of her spine that she childishly liked to think had birthed the start of need for a companion like him. It connected them. Claws pricked at dark blue-bled hide, and crimson spilled forth. Not much, but Lakota wouldn't have minded anyways. Though she had to walk much slower to ensure Ao wouldn't slip down her slim sides, it was actually nice to have his warm, fluffy frame against her. Aodaun fell asleep soon, the rocking of her steps lulling him off into dreamworld. With his weight no longer squirming, it was actually easier to carry him. A brief smile flickered over her face. Night had fallen, and yet she had found her hooves taking her deeper south until she'd arrived in the depths of the gnarled trees.

Sludge worked its way up her legs but hardly a second thought was spared to even recognizing it caking on her skin. It wasn't like she had anybody to impress. Dark whispers that weren't really enough to take form echoed in her ears, and tales of dead lurking in the marsh tickled at her brain. Did she fear death? In the end, no. However with the precious cargo upon her back, Lakota would not be so willing to go down. She had people to protect, a herd. It felt strange, to no longer be The Grey of the Deep Forest. Nomad was no longer a title to her name. Was it time for the cliche of settling down, starting a family? It made her skin itch to think of it. Ithrim had been her love so long ago, but she knew that his last wish could not go unheard. She was maternal, gruff and stoic as she was at times, but she feared not being able to do her duties. Yeah, Ktulu had achieved greatness even with a demigod within her belly, but Lakota was unsure if she even wanted to be that god awful stereotypical babymaker of a mare.

And seriously, why had her thoughts been so consumed with children? It had to be Phaedra and those twins, Hotaru and Raeden. Lakota adored being called Aunt Kota, loved those two little angels more than anything in her entire life. Except maybe Aodaun, of course. Hototo, as well, had grown on her despite no immediate interaction between the two. All around her, the mares she respected were spitting out little babies that squalled and squealed and made her want to coo over them in a fashion that was certainly not normal for her. Yet they never lost the bad ass feel that had them earning her respect. Oh Gods, if it was her age and instinct making her think of kids, she was literally going to rip out her own organs so that she couldn't have them at all.

Somehow she'd lost the trail, and the whispers were getting louder and more persistent. They knew she was lost. Lakota did not doubt magic and ghosts, spirits and otherworldly beings. It had existed in a place that felt worlds away, when she was naught but a thin little princess with cracked amethyst eyes and a broken heart whose cracks were filled with ice to stop the pain. Aodaun slept soundly, safely, upon her back. All around her the trees, the thick vines, seemed to sway closer until she saw no escape. Teeth grit when they tangled her legs and made her already lanky legs nearly trip. All around her it turned into a whirlpool of noise, ones she couldn't distinguish. Her sweet whined softly and twitched unhappily, and though her eyes were shards of glass that glowed beneath the light of the half moon, she whispered softly to him, words meant only for his ears. "Hush, Ao. They will not hurt us." Finally, when she had decided that her puzzle piece had been disturbed too much, a sharp snort escaped her nostrils and the fog of the Marsh suddenly became different, glowing with a light that wasn't found in the twisted swamp. Magic coursed, thudded, breathed around her. Whatever it was that made nature bend and sway to its will, it would regret crossing her. A small bubble kept them safe, and her poison worked through the air the plants so desperately needed. Kota smirked as she imagined the screaming of the souls around her, though she wasn't sure it was entirely her imagination. Helovia did strange things, sometimes, like the land was alive with more than just the Gods. When the mists cleared, receding with a buzz within her veins, the plants had wilted into near nothingness. The trees were blackened, as if burned, and the vines were nearly disintegrated due to their weaker nature. Triumph and even sadistic pleasure was evident in the devilish smirk on her beautiful face, sly like a vixen. She had the ability to heal, and to hurt. It sometimes made her feel conflicted, but when it came to her precious ones, death would always be the first order on her mind. Nothing would touch her bonded, not without her dying to protect him. Again she continued, finding the path once more and trudging on from the mass destruction she had caused, a large black ring of death all that remained of her anger and protective instincts.

Aodaun stirred restlessly as the mists crept in, though the whispers did not follow it after her display of protective anger. Heat prickled uncomfortably at her skin, a faint but slowly, daily growing reminder of her own gender. It infuriated her more than anything else, as she wasn't one to care for the lust-ridden time of heat that gave way to so many children out of mated pairs. Was it bitterness that kept her from indulging in the feeling of such a natural process? That she could not have given it to Ithrim? Even if it was not to be intense for a few more days at least, Lakota dreaded it already. So instead she focused upon the whimpering of her babe, the only one she could care after like a mother. Even the silver light of the moon could not permeate the thick fogs that clung to her every curve. When her child whimpered she shifted her hips in a more exaggerated manner, in a way that was almost enticing had it been in any other situation. It was meant to rock and sway him, lull him into rest with a comforting motion. Comfort it did, for his whimpers and snuffles of agitation soon quieted. However it wasn't long until the mud sucking her legs down towards the earth prevented her from doing it in the same manner as it had started. Trying her hardest to keep up the soothing rhythm, she cast a quick gaze around before feeling heat flush her face. Softly she started to hum, little lullabies that Alleo used to sing to her when she was small and easily frightened. Back when her violet eyes had been just as large but filled with tears and misunderstandings, wondering what she had done wrong.

If you later asked her what songs she sang, which words fell slowly from her lips, she couldn't tell you. So many songs, so many memories that she could choose from, and all centered around that large comforting presence with the dark forest eyes. Every noise of discomfort faded away, and yet her voice wasn't the only one that echoed in the fog. Abruptly her own voice came to an end as another sang out, though not in melody as hers had. Feeling suddenly embarrassed over the fact that he- for it was a masculine voice that called out to her- could have heard her singing something so precious. Again he cried out, voice stronger than the first word he had uttered, and the lass turned towards the sound. Though she couldn't see him, she moved towards his voice regardless. "My name is Lakota," she called out in return, and the calm regal tone surprised even her. Had something so simple as an old song from the past given her this much comfort and familiarity with herself? Black legs, turned brown by muck, kept moving in the direction she believed he was. "What is your name?" she queried in return, wishing she could see him but knowing the glowing mists would only open to reveal him when it so desired. The Marsh was an awfully funny place.