The darkness was unrelenting, the golden marked corporal finding it harder as each day passed in the inky black to keep track of the amount of time it had been since the orb last gave it's light to the cold peak of the mountain. Cold was perhaps an understatement; the mare waded through a thick drift of snow, the lack of heat allowing for only further accumulation of the white stuff as it was blown about by the winds, the only passage of anything in Illynx's mind that could be counted aside from the number of times she had beaten her way back out of her cave since night had fallen, never to rise. Even the moon was gone, her jovial, round face no longer lighting the dark sky, and with only stars loitering about it's face the mare found Helovia to be most melancholy. It was common for the black maned temptress to chide herself for laughing inwardly at Crowley's offering of blankets for those who needed them; if the chill was to persist at this level, she may soon be asking for a cover herself, something that she felt rather sheepishly embarrassed by. What sort of warrior cringed from the cold, even one as unnatural as this?

A bustle of movement drew her eyes towards the edge of the spring, where a proud midnight silhouette paced along the shore with the jittery, stiff movements of agitation. The mare lifted her ears to catch the sounds of the hooves buffeting the warmed soil around the shoreline, her dark muzzle breathing in deep the smell of Psyche, a spark of curious worry igniting upon the recognition within Illynx's gilded stare. Her path adjusted and she made her way towards the black figure of her queen, the snow lessening in depth the closer she came to the fount of warmth around which the feather laden Lady of the Basin drained her frustrations upon the earth beneath her hooves. Many of the other members of the herd, less stubbornly ignoring the drastic nature of the cold that had swept their home than Illynx, who still attempted to persevere in her usual cave, lingered around the edges of the broiling water, their figures becoming clearer as she drew near, but it was Psyche alone that her company was to be freely given to on this evening.

"Psyche, love," she called as she came within earshot, her voice a croon that pierced the cold air with it's vibrance, "you'll draw a sweat and catch your death in the chill, if you do not cease." Her face was creased with soft lines of worry, an expression not often caught upon the visage of the corporal, but despite her best attempts to remain aloof of all other life, she found the pull to care for the ebony mare beyond her strength to resist. She could understand entirely what drove her friend to this near deranged pacing, however, she herself keeping an extra alert eye upon the comings and goings of the Basin, but the level to which Psyche must worry about their safety made the paltry concerns of a swollen-headed soldier seem rather small. If the children were to drop dead of cold, it would not be Illynx they pointed fingers at, but Psyche, and though the golden corporal found pointing fingers over something obviously caused by nature was quite out of line, she could not speak for any of her herd-mates. The chocolate mare came to a halt within her queen's line of movement, in hopes to divert the manic pacing of the worried woman and lure her into a conversation. "You can help none of us if you are dead or dying, dearest."