The colorless haze of the forest brings forth a monochromatic scene of violence - teeth bared, a pale winged body whistling through the air. Something awakens in her belly which had been dormant for so many seasons; wounds, so carefully stitched for healing, ripped apart and bleeding. Every muscle in her body tenses, dim light rolling off her sleek dark body, her gentle curves now taut and angular. Ivories come forward, followed by angry golden eyes and swaths of pale mane. With a cry of surprise, Huyana's forebody surges upward like the highest tide, narrowly avoiding the teeth and the dragon, the blue in her eyes eclipsed with white. No blood, she wants to shout, to tell this momster. She wants to run, to escape this violence - so badly is her fright that she forgets whose teeth are coming towards her, whose companion veers toward her. Hooves claw blindly in mid air, ready to meet the ground running.

But as suddenly as this anger is ignited, it dissipates.

The dragon pivots away lamely, the teeth snap shut.

Forelegs meet the forest floor with an uncharacteristically graceless thump, mane tousled on her crest. Ears flick backward as she eyes her would-be assailant suspiciously, her heart beating so quickly she's afraid it will sprout wings and fly from her chest. She trembles, although whether it is with fright or cold is uncertain. Lace, Huyana remembers, although mistrust is still rampant in her gaze. She is ready to run, although the roan is sure he will not continue. The silver-maned stallion says her name, and his eyes betray no acrimony, no enmity - just the gaze of someone who has witnessed too much, whose heart is tired and whose hooves are weary. She inhales sharply, bades her racing heart to calm. There will be no blood shed today, she tells it, eyes softening as she watches the poor dragoness pick herself out of nearby shrubbery. "I remember," she replies reluctantly after a moment of studying his friend, studying his expression earnestly. They had met briefly many moons ago in this same forest - but even then something was familiar about him, but the blue girl could not say what. Huyana scrutinizes him, pulls apart the details of his face, of his stance. Nothing. She sighs once more, listening to the treble of his voice.

"No," she admits to Lace after a moment of deliberation, an earnest look of distress in her big liquid eyes. With unease, the roan paws half-heartedly at the soil, body still livid from her fright. Huyana glances once more at the waters, still undisturbed despite the recent unrest around it. The girl looking back at her is completely ruffled and definitely troubled, blundering blindly through her world with barely a thought. I pity her, she thinks, wrenching her eyes away from it with disgust. Huyana finds herself longing for the sea's embrace, for the humid muskiness of the Tome Guardian's abode, for his books and his knowledge, for her father's stormy eyes and sunny days hunting for sea shells. It takes all her strength not to cry in front of this stranger. Let me drown in peace.

Dark hooves draw the equine closer to the pool, on the edge opposite to her. Her eyes flick upward, lingering on his own, perhaps attempting to glean some sort of meaning from their gilded depths. There is a furrow of worry on his brow, but Huyana cannot dwell on it long because his little pale friend, Fajira, picks herself out of the bush she had landed in, chattering little apologies. The rainchild beams down at the tiny dragon, a fond look softening the portent in her gaze. She leans down to look at the creature more closely, blowing raspberries toward her face in amenity. Lace's voice interrupts this tirade, and Huyana raises her face to listen. Her ears flick back in consideration and the happiness that Fajira brought her vanished. "The world turns so violently, Lace," she whispers, watching him unblinkingly. Was he in Isilme? He is so familiar - perhaps he resembles someone from that place. There is a lump in her throat that threatens to choke her. "I've tried my best to bring peace to this world, to quell the flames which threaten to consume us, but what is a sprinkle of rain to an inferno?"

Eyes close, and she lets the moments tick by in silence. When they open, the silver stallion is bent, drinking from the ruby-crusted pool. "If you do not burn, you drown," she murmurs, dipping her own nose into the frigid water, not quite drinking but letting the coolness engulf her lips. Maybe he is a warrior, a warmonger, too blinded by bloodlust to understand her worry - but perhaps he is of peace - but he is only a stranger; what will he understand? She is ashamed of pouring all her worries on him, her doubts and her anger. "I'm sorry," she gasps, shaking her dark head and backing away from the pool. Will he stop her from running? Will he even care?

[omg sorry for the wait and then the terribly rushed post ;~~; also she's not actually going to leave ;P]