Life still wasn't looking up for me. Things were just getting stranger and stranger. I knew I was famous back home (it kind of comes with being a Prince), too, but these were not the lands of my family — so why did I keep meeting those who knew my name here, too? And why could none of them help me? Mauja they called me and Mauja I am, but I don't know their faces, and no one knows how to get me home. So why do they know of me, if they don't know of my lands? Of the way to glory?

I sigh, and lower my head to lip at the grasses. I seriously should stop doing it. I filled my waking hours with eating, this grass which was ashen in my mouth, and dreaming of home, of Morgan, of mother and father and the court, and ate more. And more. And more. I didn't dare look at my reflection in the tinkling river anymore, afraid that it'd show in the curve of my barrel.

It probably did.

I sigh, again, and swallow the glob of green in my mouth, before movement pulls at my attention. My head snaps up, peering out across the drying, fading thistles (my handsome coat is starting to grow rugged, and I hate it), and then I see her. Surely she's a god-sent warrior to get me out of here, for why else would she be so beautiful?

"Hey!" I croak, setting off towards her. "Over here!" Even with a few pounds I should lose I am graceful, my gait smooth and flowing; for a moment I am tempted to run, as she had, to feel the wind through my mane, but in the next moment I think better of it. Princes didn't do that; Princes participated in artful dances and dangerous duels. I snort to myself and keep trotting, the dying vegetation bowing before my pale knees. The nights were getting colder and I hated that, too, but what am I to do about it? I can't find the way back.

Bright-eyed, I arrive next to the pale beauty, and offer her a dip of my head. It would not do for me to be rude. "I- err..." And suddenly I find my tongue failing me, as I peer at her, and a frown creases my face. What if she wasn't here to find me..? "Good day," I finish lamely, feeling quite un-princely.

Oh look at that. She's neither keeling over at having the Royal Prince come up to her, nor is she calling out my name — I don't know whether to be annoyed or relieved that she's so.. well, I don't quite know what to describe it as! I'd call her "normal", but it's not normal to me. It's odd. Servants would bow to me and mutter something nice, and then melt away into the shadows; the courtiers would fawn over me and.. really, the only ones I can think of who stood their ground in such a way, drifting a little closer like they had a right to come uninvited, to meet me as an equal, were the foreign dignitaries who came visiting.

Shit. What if she's a princess? And I'm fat now of all things. That wasn't so great.

I flounder in my search for words, trying to figure out what to do — she has a pretty smile, offering it to me, and I feel a slight one tug at my lips as I finally greet her properly. I don't know whether to be ashamed or amused that she laughs at me, though, and settle for a mildly quizzical look. I was not.. used to this. Back home, no one would've dared to laugh at me. In my presence. Even if I had been fat. But she's pretty and I let it slide, and in the next moment she mercilessly crushes all my hopes under her dainty feet. She doesn't know who I am. She's not sent out to find me, and bring me home. She's just a mare on a meadow and she laughed at me. I feel my mood plummet like a heavy rock in water, promptly forgetting her name as she became nothing but just a mare. A pretty, but ultimately useless, mare.

"Prince Mauja," I mutter under my breath, looking aside for a moment. Dead, dead, dying, drying up; the river tinkled nearby but even the vegetation seemed to know the nights were growing colder, for they were all withering. I'm not used to this, it's depressing, and I glare sullenly at the nearby corpse of a thistle. At least I had food.. but when it all died.. what then would I eat? My jaws work soundlessly for a moment before I heave a sigh. "I don't know where I am. I don't know the way back home." And that was almost whining, and even though I felt like whining her ears off, it just didn't do! Father would hand my ass to me if he heard... I scowl, and straighten up a bit; Mother would harass me for slouching. And Morgan.. well, good thing Morgan had stopped caring about my moods. "It's just frustrating," I say, cautiously, trying to amend what damage I might've done to her image of me.

[ believe me Roo, the real Mauja is much less of an ass! XD ]

I would've deserved an eye-roll for that, honestly. I'm not sure if I'm ashamed of the fact that I tend to whine about things and except someone else to fix them for me — I mean, it works most of the time. I guess I'm just so content with having someone serve me life on a plate that I'm unwilling to change. And honestly, why should I change? It's not like it's hurtful to anyone that I'm lazy and inept at everything except flirting with court ladies. And I was starting to realize that I could only flirt with court ladies, because all the other, low-born ladies were just.. weird, and didn't fawn over me. Or they just gave me weird looks when I said pretty things about them, so I'd kind of given up on entertainment too...

I'm so stuck in my rather sullen, annoyed thoughts that I completely miss her deep breath. Oblivious, unaware, that maybe she is not as receptive to my ways as I think she is; to her, I'm just a stranger, dumping some of my problems in her lap. To me, I'm a prince, justified in trying to find someone else who can help me without not really trying myself.

Though if I'm stuck here much longer, maybe I'll start giving it an honest effort.

She asks where I am from and I almost snort, before remembering that no one here had a clue. Aside from that other "Mauja" some took me for they were all ignorant of my origin, and the mighty forest kingdom I hailed from. I try to amuse myself by thinking what Morgan would say if he knew they didn't know — some quirky, acid remark no doubt, but I can't come up with anyone myself and thinking of Morgan just brings back that bone-deep, fierce ache.. that longing... My voice is genuinely sad when I respond, "Skogamark". There's just that note of desperation, of something you held very dear but lost for more than a few hours — a loss that has settled deeper than a mere bruise. Sometimes I even missed my lectures and strenuous duties, if only because it would mean I was home.

Then she asks if I know where to go, and look around, and this time I do snort. Did she think I was stupid, or what? It's not like I walked into this blasted meadow and then was so silly I couldn't retrace my own steps. "No," I respond, perhaps a little too crispy, but it's something I've gone over in my head a million times, and for some common mutt to assume I just took a stroll and forgot where I was is just.. insulting. "I fell asleep at home, like usual, and woke up in this place." I wave my head in the direction of the river, though I'm not sure anymore if it was around here I actually woke up or not — I just knew that it had been by one of the small rivers running through here. And truthfully, I didn't want to properly remember. "So I'm kind of at a loss for where to even start looking."

She's not being overly helpful. I'm quite disappointed actually; for all her brilliance in the light she's just a stranger. An ignorant stranger. For a moment I was busy looking away, out over the field and the reminder of a change I was not familiar with, but when I look back, it is to find her icy eyes glued to mine. Our gazes snap locked and I find myself at a loss when faced with this brazen behavior; I snort, and raise my head a little higher. Who does she think she is, to stare at me in such a way? My nostrils widen and my tail twitches in annoyance, but I do not take my eyes off hers. This was no way to treat me.

She speaks, her voice dripping sarcasm, and I think her coat looks cold and uninviting now, not glowing, shimmering; her eyes are hard and mine harden, too, to try not let my emotions show. What does she think I am? Stupid? Or ashamed, so I'd make up some tall tale to explain why I am here and unable to go home? It's quite hurtful, actually, that she'll say such things, as if it's what I think — if I had any goddamn idea I wouldn't be here, would I? My ears fall back, and I know that I'm lousy at hiding my feelings; she'll see that it's saddened me, but at the same time, it has angered me. Didn't I just tell her I woke up here?

"Fine," I spit, goading my anger to take over. Sadness was too weak, too shameful, and I didn't want to burst into tears here and blubber about missing Father and Mother and my sisters and Morgan. Damn, I miss Morgan a lot more than I want to admit.. more than I'll ever let him know, anyway. "You're obviously deaf, as I told you, I have no idea. You're not being very helpful." And I glare some, for good measure, my pale eyes smoldering with haughty, wounded pride. Hadn't I been perfectly clear on the circumstances of my arrival? I sniff, knowing better than to waste time on idiots, but yet I am loathe to just leave — what if she does know something..?

"So do you know anything useful or are you just going to act like a jerk because you don't?" I am poised on the edge of walking away, my head high as I glare down at her from my taller height, tail lashing against my hocks in annoyance. What idiots you could find out in the world.

I don't even know why I'm still here, putting myself through this most subjective torture. What a snotty girl this was, even laying her ears flat against her neck in front of me! If only I could hand her insolent ass to one of the guards... but no, they're not here, or rather, we're not there. I mirror her, flattening my black-rimmed ears and keeping my smoldering glare steady. I could feel it, something coming out, words I knew I wouldn't want to hear just because they were stupid and they'd probably prod that place in me I shied away from.. but most of all, they wouldn't help me come home, because she wasn't going to help. It was obvious, even to me, and frankly I didn't want her help, so I wasn't going to try and lure her in with rewards and riches either. To come home, because she had saved me — the mere thought makes my stomach turn. I'd rather be stuck here a few days longer than go through that.

And oh, look at that, I was right. I didn't want, or need, to hear all this. She claims to be a princess and I scowl at her. Yeah, right, as if — if she was, she'd be a whole lot more mannered and willing to help me, maybe even dream of my hoof in marriage. Fat chance she's royal. Nope. I decide she's just lying, maybe jealous of my position, and I'm sure she's not met any real princes either. I just can't believe she would've, or if she did, none of them would've liked her anyway. She's too loud-mouthed, too arrogant, and if she had been a princess surely her father would've put her in her place, her proper place. Or maybe that was why she was out here? Because she wasn't good enough to be a princess, so she got kicked out of her kingdom, boo hoo. Yeah. If she'll insist on being a princess again, that's how it'll be — she got thrown out. I can almost see it in my head.

And then she's done, asking if I have anything to say, and I keep scowling with my ears flat and my gaze dark. Anything to say! I have a whole lot to say to her, but why should I waste breathe on her? Yet my childish pride demand I stay, even though I have decided she cannot help me. I won't let her help me, even. "I don't care what distant queen birthed you on the wrong side of the blanket," I say, further annoyed by her plunge back into calm. As if I'm some child throwing a temper tantrum. "I asked you if you know anything but you still didn't answer me, so I must assume you don't." Enjoy your ignorance. I still keep my head high, my tail flicking from side to side, lashing against my hocks and flanks. I'm almost daring her to contradict me, though I would probably lose my temper if she did. It's not my fault she's stupid and deaf, but she doesn't have to act like it is, does she? Or like somehow being a disgraced princess makes it acceptable.

[ hurr durr he's an ass. :x ]

I don't even bother answering. My snort and skeptical look should tell her that yes, I doubt she's a princess. She's too stupid and thick-headed and dumb for it, and much too brazen. She should be in a corner, being quiet and respectful, not arguing with me like this! Besides, none of this is my fault - I just asked her if she knew how to get home and she turned all pissy on me. I am quite unamused by this all, and there was no point in hiding my annoyance. Why would I? She's just a would-be princess in her land of make believe, and I have no respect for that. I'll trample all over her castle and leave her broken in the mud; I'm not violent normally, but I sometimes entertain the notion of destruction within my mind, living vicariously through my dreams. It'd be sweet to put her in her place, but I can't be bothered; I just glare hotly, waiting for her to keep making a fool of herself.

The silence stretches, almost uncomfortable, but I refuse to budge. I will not be the one to break away, mutter and mumble, to look aside and take my leave, even if I'd do it in a flourish and with glares. I hold my place, my blue eyes smoldering, and then she starts speaking, trying to insult me. A whining prince! (Well, I know that I do whine a bit sometimes, but whining about being magically teleported to the middle of blasted nowhere is legit, I swear. Maybe I won't whine about bruises for a few years, just to prove her wrong, but this shit I'm landed in is enough to make me want to weep in the hours of darkness. So hell yes, I whine about this, but not other things. Moron.) And what is she, a pretty, sparkling princess? No. If anything, she's whining about me, and trying to act so high and mighty. I don't even bother trying to defend myself from her foolish jibes, they just show that she knows nothing. Why did she have to attack me, just because she was stupid? Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupidstupidstupidstupid...

"Thank you for finally answering my question, princess," I say icily, acid dropping from my sarcastic voice when I drop her title. Yeah, princess my ass. I find it amusing and ironic that she berates me for not listening to my father in the same breath that she admits not listening to her own. Geeze. I roll my eyes, thinking that staying here with this useless mare is not going to be healthy for my blood pressure (you'd think it'd do damage to my self-esteem, but nahhh! I know who I am, and my worth.). "I can see that you are going to be just as useless as I expected, if not more." I don't even care, just pull my head up a little higher again and glare at her. Lowly creature, get out of my way. "So if you don't mind, I'll be going now, princess." And with that, I try to use my bigger bulk to shoulder her aside and stride away across the meadow.