How long had she been standing shrouded in these mists? How many soldiers had seen her presence and gone to tell a superior? How many were concerned that there might be an attack? Did it even matter? Her frame was still swaying back and forth as it threatened to collapse on the spot from the hours of walking she had accomplished in order to get back here. She could tell that some of the soldiers had stopped and looked at her, attempting to inspect her frame without getting too close. And then, it seemed, once they were certain that the scent of Moon Goddess's mists were wrapping around her in an attempt to comfort the poor soul who was too shattered to understand what was moving around her.

The screams continued to fill her ear, no matter how hard she pressed it up against her cranium in an attempt to block it out. The scent of blood caked to her coat continued to radiate into her nostrils and send her back to the scene even though the tears had dried up beyond use. And then, someone was coming toward her. Blank eyes met the ink frame, not even registering the white markings that made her strikingly different from the stag who had stabbed her friend. She couldn't even take in that the horn was not laced with the caked, maroon substance that was meant to give life. She staggered back a few steps, opening her mouth in an attempt to yell and scream for help. "Don't hurt me! God. Please! You've taken away enough!" she screeched in her cranium, but nothing except a broken gasp could escape her vocal chords as her golden orbs glinted with fear in the darkness that had overtaken them. He was back. He was here and he was going to make her join the grave as well...

Words hit her ears, a hello with 'miss' tacked onto the end, and the soft, almost soprano tone did not match the burly, almost mechanic voice that had been vibrating in her ears since the attack. The voice did not match the body she was seeing so vividly before her. Her head shook, just slightly, as if to say no - the fear causing her to stumble back another couple steps, deeper into the tendrils of mist that were coaxing her into their hold, trying to hide her frame and protect her from the memories that were overpowering all of her senses.

And finally, the mists seem to completely envelope her frame, wispy against her face to catch any tears which might finally be able to fall from her dried eyes again. The ebony mare with ivory markings still appeared to be the ink creature with the curled daggers dripping blood, despite the proof that she was not that stag. Dead eyes peeled away from the threat, no longer attempting to cry out for help - to cry out in fear, begging to not be broken anymore than she already had been. Those exact dead eyes landed upon a frame that was familiar, one that she could not cloak as a threat no matter how hard she tried. But, her brain would not allow her to differentiate as to whether it was Kaj or Quil who had appeared, muscles rippling and wings spread as he flared his nostrils to take in all the air that would reach his lungs. His looming frame shoulders past the one she sees as a threat, only causing Res to stumble back a few steps wanting to cry out "He killed her! Him! He killed Rowan!" but again the words could not escape her maw, mind dawning her mute for the moment from the shock that her system was still attempting to sort through.

She does not flinch as the pegasus puts his muzzle against her neck, and runs it along her chest. No. She does not. And it is strange, anyone who knew her would admit that, but now she was too out of it to even consider anything except that mechanical stag a threat - too out of it to take in that she really had no view for protection, no way to save herself if she even had the ability to try. The familiar voices matches the familiar stag, but she still cannot place exactly who it is - that was until she heard the nickname that Kaj had dawned her. Instantly, the dried tears are no longer dried. Her eyes well up and she shakes her head, uncertain as to what 'zusje' is but still unable to speak. She throws her head toward the mare still cloaked as the murderer, feeling as he continues to run his maw across her frame, before cautiously raising his wing to cloak her further from the world.

The tears were falling again as he crooned, telling her that he was here - a promise falling from his lips. Her audit manages to prick up ever so slightly, struggling to concentrate on the voice that was familiar - the voice that meant safety. Instinctively she shot forward, pulling up against his side, head burying itself against his shoulder. The trembling had still not returned to her frame, no, but the tears were now cascading down her cheeks, continuing to start to clean the cracked blood off of her face, some of the tears starting to soak into his hide. And then he was talking to the one who was cloaked in her vision, asking if he knew what had happened, where she had come from. Of course he knew! He was there! He had killed her best friend. Her maw opened again in an attempt to speak, "He did it! He killed her! He's right there. He's right in front of us! How could you let him in here?!" She was begging, pleading for her voice to emerge - to let Kaj know it was all his fault - but no sound would slide through her maw and into the mists that were also offering their protection to the shattered mare.

But she was cold, and afraid. And with his voice came the vague, somewhat comforting memory that there was nothing sharp in his wings. So, she snagged onto a tuft of the downy feathers above her, trying to pull his wing down closer to her frame, only to get a mouthful of the baby feathers that couldn't actually do anything except cushion. Coughing them out she shook here head a little, long tresses caked together in portions and moving almost like a board with the shifts. Cautiously, she stretched out to his longer feathers, grabbing onto it and giving it a light tug - so as to not harm him in the process, unsure of how much pull she could put upon the wing without causing pain, and continuing to attempt to shift his wing so that it was actually wrapped around her body. Her frame was small enough to be completely covered by the wing, except for maybe the very end of her haunches. And so, as she leaned up against his side for stability to stand, and begged for the wing to wrap around her frame the blank eyes continued to stare out at the mare cloaked in her horrible memories.

Memories were shrouding her entire world. Was there anyway out?