"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
There are changes coming, changes that send rushes of excitement through the young girl. Flickers of electricity spark across her coat as she joins the meeting, looking up to Ghaul. There’s no sense of jealousy that Anaxarete had named him her heir - the shadow mare was teaching Beyza how to use magic, after all, not how to rule a kingdom.
She watches the armoured creatures arrive and flank Anaxarete as always - and she grins at her teacher, admiring how formidable they all are - the kings, the queen, the guardians. Perhaps, one day, she'll earn a spot among them.
She’s still as she listens, drinking in the words. Although she does not fully comprehend the speech, it does not make her squirm (too much). Fire is cleansing and natural, is it not? She still wrestles with the morals of harming others, those she does not know and have not done harm to her, but surely they would not be doing any such thing. She trusts Anaxarete and by extension trusts the new kings - if they say they have enemies, then who is she to doubt them?
As for what she wanted - there wasn’t much to it. As of yet the white yearling did not wish for much, beyond keeping her family safe and helping out the home she had grown to love. “I desire to help, in whatever way I can.” Her small voice speaks out in a lull, quiet and unassuming, but she offers a small smile to accompany it.
