The disturbance drew him in like a moth to flame, some vague sixth sense of leadership guiding his hooves in the right direction. A breeze brought the smell of a stranger, and the one of Deimos - the King's walk became a fleet-footed trot, sweeping legs through a clinging mist as trees flashed by. Clouds covered the moon and stars in the sky, but still the deep shadows clung to him, a rippling darkness just vaguely perceivable that followed him, and silver covered the black of his pupil, making him seem blind. Mauja saw perfectly well, and he knew his forest, navigating it with ease. Some nights, he felt like a ghost in his own home, with most members being someplace else, seeking respite from the heat by going north, or just not being where he was. On moonlit nights he shimmered and glowed, and on moonless ones, the dark shadows hid him, making him seem gray.

"Introductions, Deimos," a foreign voice growled, coming from the chest of a young white unicorn. Red marked her mane and tail, a proud white horn rising from her brow. What business did she have in here, past the burnt section, growling at one of his loyal warriors? He did not know where she was or where she came from - she smelled of the forest with the blood red pool, and vaguely of something else that he couldn't quite place. Was it one of the herds? Someone he'd met? Mauja couldn't bother with remembering it, and pushed it aside. For now, he'd assume she was an outcast, but that didn't lessen the crime of her trespass. "I find it only fair to know who resides here among my own kind, and I have heard that this forest is beautiful." Fair? Fair? If so, it would be fair for his loyal Doctor and his nurse to walk into the Foothills, it would be fair for him to go gallivanting around in the Throat! Did they? Did they? No! Some asshat warriors had acted as if d'Artagnan was a lethal, contagious disease, vermin to be driven out, and Kri couldn't even look at him without her eyes screaming murder! So who was this nosy, upstart girl to traipse into his home and claim it was fair to trespass? If she had been anything but a unicorn, he would've screamed and run her through with his frost-coated horn in sheer frustration, but as it was, he tried to rein in his temper. A low growl rumbled in his chest for a split moment before it died out, and as she delivered a provoking comment about the Sun he slipped out from the embrace of the darkness.

Icy fury lined the cracks in his mask, something cold, unyielding, in his pale eyes; his head was carried high, grace and power leaking from his being. When Mauja was in a temper, he was terrible to behold - he did not scream and throw things about, but watched with a cold, calculating silence, the silent promise of murder in his voice. "You're in my home," he said, deathly cold. He brushed up next to Deimos, carefully keeping a few inches of clean air between them - he had not forgotten the warrior's warning, and even when breathing warm air onto his muzzle in greeting did he refrain from bumping. Respectful, perhaps, but also a clear indication that he would not give up.

"And you're being rude." Moon-covered eyes settled on her, hard, his pale tail flicking behind him. "Provoking. Like a vulture, picking at an old wound." Did she truly believe even the largest herd of mortals stood a chance against a God composed of fire? They could throw themselves at him, all at a time or one by one, and he'd simply incinerate them all, leaving nothing but charred, foul-smelling flesh and cinders to tell the tale of their bravery and strength. Muscles were coiled tight beneath his white coat, the sharp, strong edges of ice evident in every plane of his body; gone was the soft snow, the face that often smiled and the eyes that were warm. Only the harsh, strong bite of winter remained as he stared at her.

"Is that who you want to be?" he asked, demanded, of her in a voice that bore no traces of love and warmth.