It was uneventful.. for a while. Mauja had stopped peacefully by the stream, lulled into a false sense of security by the strange voice of the monster, but his pet had not stopped peacefully. Pale blue eyes snapped to his quivering body, drank in his trembling nostrils - heard his spine-shivering neigh, and a sense of unreal dread descended upon the frosty monarch. A thousand things passed through his head at the same time, flashing through like bolts of lightning; the one word that was branded stark against his brain was fool. He could see the fuse being lit beneath those eyes, the same emotion which had burned in his gaze when he split Mauja's shoulder open; he repeated the same words, but not in the childish sing-song voice, but more like a murmur. No, his mind protested.

But he knew that he was a fool - had been a fool.

Kou was right. He was playing with fire too often, getting burned too badly, but it was one thing when it was only himself getting harmed by the blazes. He shouldn't have brought the stallion here, not without learning how far the control stretched - how effective the tether was. He shouldn't have brought him here, but he had, and any second he was going to break and do something. And after all, what could his jaws put against the bulk of a charging stallion? What if he broke lose? What if he found Snö? What had the Fool King been thinking when he brought such a volatile, unpredictable creature into the midst of his home? That he could control him? Master he'd said but what was he master of? Shame and guilt washed over him even as his brain sought the best solution to the problem. He should listen more often to Kou. And perhaps be cautious when consorting with insane folks. What stung the most wasn't that he'd been burnt again, or the fact that Snö might be somewhere in his vast land too, but the fact that he'd walked right into the trap of power. Master the black stallion had said, while his "master"'s blood dried on his horn. Master he'd said and Mauja hadn't questioned, had just held onto that thought of control.

Thrice be damned all the fools.

"No!" he growled around the rope as the monster lurched forward. Mauja's own body had tensed, muscles coiled beneath the skin, but if it came down to a fight between the pair again he was at a disadvantage - he hadn't slept in far too long, nor eaten or drunk. And if he let the monster go? He'd wreak havoc on the herd and he'd somehow have to tell them that he'd stupidly enough brought the fiend into their home willingly.

The alabaster friesian sprang forth in a charge of his own, not wanting to relinquish the hold on Monster's rope and yet not wanting it ripped from his jaws. Frosted hooves pushed off the ashen earth, and with a surge he tried to smash into the beast's path, knock into his chest, send him sprawling - anything, just to stop his mad, blood-lusted charge. He knew the words, he knew the look in those flaming eyes, and he did not want its unchecked rage unleashed on his herd.