Crowley paid no mind to the black speckled mare as he arrived to the scene. He remembered her from their encounter some weeks back when she had tried so hard to protect his dearest prisoner, Lana, that disgusting Pegasus that had been foolish enough to follow him to the Basin. He wasn't complaining about her actions, however, for he had been more than happy to partake in her beating alongside his Empress. Just like all the other unfortunate hornless of the world, she'd been stupid enough to listen and not see past his lies.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Crowley took in the forms of the rest that had gathered. The fleeing form of the strangely colored mare, Therror if he remembered correctly, was what had drawn him over the lip of the Basin in the first place. His first impressions of the mare had left much to be desired, and the moment he'd seen her hurrying away, something foul settled over him, marring his face and pulling his dark ears back against his skull. Even in the moonlight, the bitch was impossible to miss, even more so considering how silent it was on this particular night. No birds sang, and in the distance, the wolves were silent; the perfect setup for what was about to play out.

The rest were all familiar faces to the brindled Weaver. He knew little more of Mauja than his name and the fact that he was named Bane of the Plague, the highest rank under Psyche from what he knew. Elizabeth, his once Corporal was also there, stationed not far from him. As of late, she'd become a familiar sight in the snowy mountains, such a strange realization after she'd been gone for so long in the Dragon's Throat. Lastly, there was Lupus, one of his most favored recruits. Although not a unicorn, he was loyal to the Plague, and his intentions were good for the organization. Unlike any other time, there was no nod of acknowledgment given to any of them, simply a quick glance to each before his gaze settled upon Therror.

"Where do you think you're going in such a hurry?" He asked, a rhetorical question, but it seemed that it did not matter a second later. Elizabeth had charged forward and knocked the mare clean off her feet, followed swiftly by Lupus, who sank his teeth into with ease, using the opportunity of her position to his advantage. There was a gleam in Crowley's golden eyes as he looked on, wanting so badly to join in the fray, yet for what reason was this staged in the first place? He did not know of Therror's intentions to tell the world of the Plague, nor the fact that she even knew of the group. For all he knew, she had been going on a wintry, midnight stroll, and the others were upset that they hadn't been invited to come along.

With a quick look to Mauja, the Weaver seemed to be searching for an answer. Did the spotted Bane know the reasoning for this madness? Crowley was ready to jump in at a moment's notice, as was made obvious by the shifting of cloven hooves beneath him.