[ No worries! ^^ And I think they (your skills) will, too - I've seen a lot of writers develop in this community. The World's Edge is one of four herd lands, and choosing that prefix indicates you want one of them to come recruit you, and it typically makes the other herds stay away from your thread. ^^ ]

Rain in winter was a curse, and it was an upbringing with that knowledge, in a harsh climate, that had hammered the dislike so deep into his heart. It was a battle not to tick his ears back and flatten them, or to ceaselessly lash his hocks with his tail, or in some other way give away his irritation – some part of him argued that it was raining, sleet falling in clumps from the boughs to splatter him and the other miserable equine, and there was nothing he could do about it. Being irked by something he couldn't influence would do him no good, yet he couldn't ignore it either, because of the very real threat it posed. Mauja's body was steaming faintly, but now that he wasn't moving anymore.. how much longer until he started shivering? Until his muscles and skin and blood became as cold as the rain?

You're an ice beast, damnit. He shouldn't have to deal with this, like some southerner, but fact was he had to. This winter had decided to throw cold rain at him, and not even someone bred to endure freezing temperatures could do much about that. Water simply was too effective at stealing warmth.

And it dripped off his horn, dripped off his clumped mane, ran down his forelock and into his eyes and whiskers. Gods blast it, he hated it, and it took every ounce of control not to let the irritation show. It even took so much effort that he barely looked at the stranger – didn't notice the anxious cast of his gaze, barely even the darkness of his pelt, he just stared per reflex at his face and let his eyes churn, untouchable and arcane. "Promising?" he grunted with a hint of black humor, throwing his blue eyes skywards in a rather clear gesture. "Promising to deprive you of life right now, I'd say.. damn rain." And he gave the stranger a half-smile, a lopsided kind of grin, and snorted; he shook his head, water flying everywhere from his long mane. "Best keep moving, lest we freeze to the ground. C'mon, I'll tell you of where you've ended up while we walk." With a motion of his head he indicated Kodiak should follow, and set off at a brisk path through the trees. Mauja had no intention of freezing to death because someone had decided to throw down rain, and if he could save an equine.. gods, he should just kick him in the head and leave him to his fate. Not quite yet...

"You're in Helovia," he said after a moment, pushing the other thoughts aside. "We're a land sometimes plagued by war, sometimes out of greed, sometimes out of necessity." What kind of war is yours, Mauja? He could feel Irma moving along somewhere, up in the air, trailing them at a great distance. "There's the Aurora Basin to the north, where only unicorns reside. The World's Edge to the west; they're a mixed band of moon-worshipers. Dragon's Throat lies in the south, a mostly winged herd, but they do accept others. And closest is the Windtossed Foothills, where a mercenary band called The Grey has taken up residence." He threw a sidelong glance at the stranger. "Anything catching your fancy?"