The night would hold far more than he expected — the fates would play so that Angora's blood would not be shed upon the isthmus later in the light of the moon, but the blood of someone else would take her place. As Mauja had lingered with Psyche after the meeting he had not been aware that the gray-and-yellow mare had listened to every word that had been said, nor that she had hurried away to tell the world. Therror seemed to regard him with a calculating stare, perhaps wondering whether his voice was that of one who had spoken within the dim ice cave, but the flurry of hooves behind him brought short any reply she might give to his greeting. Elizabeth, the, in Mauja's eyes, foolish Corporal was charging up, and started talking about weeding out the garden. With a cold face Mauja turned to peer at her, raising an icy 'brow in question. What was she talking about? By then, Crowley had joined them, asking where Therror was going in such a hurry, and Leyra had somehow materialized on his other side. On the horizon, he thought he could see the pale form of Lupus sprinting towards them, and he wondered if there was some secret they all knew and refused to share with him. His ears fell back just as Elizabeth made her move.

The sturdier Corporal shouldered the daintier mare in the ribs, sending her down on her side in the dirt with a thud. Lupus finally caught up and flashed in like a stray bolt of lightning, predator's teeth sinking into her shoulder before the stranger scrambled to her feet; her eyes showed the whites but she threw her head high in defiance, declaring to the night that their secret was no longer safe, that she would tell the world about them. Mauja felt as if a ghost had punched him through the chest and gripped his heart, even as Leyra's murmur floated into his ears.

Leyra. Shit. She wasn't one of the Plague. Luckily, Therror hadn't had the chance to drop the name yet, only that she'd tell Helovia — not on his watch. Perhaps, once, his fear of reveal would play out in their favor.

From the depths of his soul he pulled up his magic, its liquid cool seeping through his veins as he numbed Therra's tongue, rendering it a useless clump of limp meat within her mouth. No more words would be spoken from her, no more threats. "Patching up a leak," he told Leyra in a cold, emotionless voice, smooth as the ice and just as frigid, never taking his pale eyes off the gray one as she backed up slightly, working her jaws but not producing more sound than a whimper as blood streamed down her shoulder. "You should leave, Leyra. I'd hate to have to give you the same treatment." And with that, he took a few steps forward, slowly circling the defiant mare; she was terrified, he could tell it, because she knew that there was no way out for her. She was surrounded, outnumbered, and that realization gripped her soul, but he doubted she'd go out without a struggle.

The earth shuddered, gave a groan, and from its depths an ice spike shot into the air, its pointed tip shoving into the sky and glittering coldly in the moonlight. Therror gave a skittish jump to the side as it licked up her thigh, and Mauja found a rather grim smile upon his face; looking past the gray mare to Crowley, he gave the brindle a nod. While the Ice King would much rather just spear Therra's heart and be done with it, he had a notion that the others would want to play with their food.

And, he hoped, that Leyra was taking his warning and moving away. He did not want to have to kill her, too.