I wonder if they notice.
Of course they do.
There was a time when I was always this way.
Were you happy then?
I am not happy now.

Though Akaith had done what she could, the mare's depression was incurable, however she was at least able to function slightly better now. As she peered into Thor's deep, chocolate gaze, she felt the affection soar in her chest, the trust and the hope that he would always be here, standing by her side, forever. It was traitorous of her own feelings, for while she didn't want them, they existed regardless of her wants. It was a curious lesson to learn; you cannot make yourself hate someone, nor can you stop yourself from loving them. As the draft's resonant voice speaks words of apology, she quirks an eyebrow up with interest, wondering what exactly he was referring to. He felt himself inadequate, and yet, she saw him as perfectly adequate. He was accepted by the herd, with warm and welcoming cheers - she recalled the day they announced the change, the smiles that touched virtually every face that day, the warm chanting of his name from the lips of all present.

Then he began speaking of her own pain, her torment. With a grimace that she swiftly tried to cover up, she winced in disgust at the thought that the herd had noticed her condition, her lack of control - or perhaps, her complete and immeasurable control that left nothing but a blank slate behind. Far too often she had allowed that indifferent mask to slip, far too trusting and loving of her herdmates she had become. Is that such a bad thing? Akaith questioned her, and she only ground her molars together in response, flicking an ear to the dragon that lounged upon her nape. She could not help it, and so she should just accept it, but the recent pain caused by the death of not one, but two, loved ones had made her scared of the emotion, it made her hate the idea of love, and yet she loved still, and hated herself for it.

Let us help you, he had said, and though the mare's heart warmed at the thought of the entire herd being willing to help her, she was unable to see just how they would do so. What would they do? The little shadow mare reflected on the memory of following Thor as he earned his magic from the Earth God, magic that she assumed he still had access to, even if she had not seen him use it since he cured the mental ailments of his mate, Tamira. Would his magic work against the darkness, the rage, the unstableness that had always existed within this mare? It was in her blood, this ailment, a result of mixing the forces of darkness and fire, as her parents, polar opposites, found love and conceived three children. While Mirage was nothing more than a little shadow mare on the outside, inside their writhed a dangerous and deadly fire - one that she had always controlled through various means. Akaith knew of this, loved her for it, helped her control it - and helped her unleash it at the appropriate time.

No, she could not be cured by magic, the cure to her ailment would occur through time, through Akaith, through the use of her own magic, and her own tried and tested techniques of coping. Ears pricked again (they had fallen somewhat to the sides), as he began speaking once more, this time apologising again, before bringing up the question, the name that brought to the fore the pain she suffered once more. As the mare grimaced again, she closed her eyes, suffering the ensuing pain that seemed to affect her both mentally and physically. It was Akaith who purred upon her back, focussing her bonded's mind on formulating a response, carrying her through the conversation. If not for Akaith, the mare would have forgot all that remained for her here on this cliffside, and taken a long walk over the sheer drop long ago.

"Aye. Murdered, he and his mate, Solstice. The killer of Solstice is known, Torasin's is not." The words were offered, factual and dry, her eyes opening slowly as she looked to him, meeting his own gaze with a heavy seriousness. He moves to stand alongside her, pressing against her, and it is automatic, the tension that flows through her then. The mare's entire spine stiffens, muscles leaping along her skeleton to form rock hard contours along her body. Relax, Akaith grumbles, the little dragon not hesitating to lean over the neck of her beloved to caress Thor with her scaly muzzle. The hold her muscles had upon her bones relented slightly as the moments dripped by, and the mare slowly accepted his presence, albeit incompletely.

"You are a fine leader, Thor. More than worthy to hold the title that you do. Never forget that." Her voice murmured softly, honestly, hoping to reassure him that while he might have been quiet recently, so too had the entire herd. He was there when he was needed, that was all that mattered - in her eyes, and at least most of those of the herd - she was yet to hear anything in the negative regarding Thor. "Times ahead will not be easy. We will endure, but we will suffer for it. It will take all of us to survive the path laid before us." It was an admission of his correctness, an acknowledgement that she would be the only one able to carry the herd through this. At the same time, she did not know exactly which road to take. The mare did not long for war or bloodshed, and so she would not seek it out - but if they brought it to her borders, then they would face elimination.

The expression painted upon her face did not change. There was a determined set to her brow, dampened by the sadness and pain that plagued her, and her body was held in a posture that was alert, ready for action, yet almost reluctant to do so. She was a paradox, a walking volatile juxtaposition of fire and shadow, waiting for a catalyst to trigger the explosive reaction that was sure to come.