Since the morning that he had awoken, bereft of the eyesight that he had once so mindlessly taken for granted, Siberian had stayed within the Chamber's borders, learning how to adapt to a world of darkness. Learning how to "see" with ears and nose, how to slide his hooves carefully across the ground at a walking pace, knowing that he never dared to gallop again, to let the wind zip through his mane and tail as he ran. It would be far too easy to accidentally place a foot into some rodent's den-hole and snap a fragile leg bone, as good as a death sentence for a horse. When he patrols, he dons the much sturdier form of the grizzly bear who still lurked within his head, depending on its massive bones and thick fur to keep himself safe. Now, though, he's ventured out at last, no particular destination in mind. It is his nose that ends up leading the way, bringing him to the place whose scent reminds him of the Chamber's own pine forest. It smells like home, but judging by the various unfamiliar equine scents that still linger, is a place where horses from throughout Beqanna come to mingle.
As upon the times of patrol, the Budyonny stallion is once again in bear form. He doubts in his worthiness as a member of the Chamber's military, feels that he is a flawed weapon in its service now. And yet, since neither Killdare or Kimber had seen fit to remove him, he continues on in his duties as best he can, for there is nothing else that he is meant for. He still ponders who had done this to him. A magician, bound to the service of those who had fought against the Chamber in the war? He believes that this is the most likely culprit, and desires to spend an unrestricted hour with whoever the culprit was. Just themself, him, and his alter-ego. He'd even give the bear full rein to do as it wished, something it hadn't been allowed to in years. The shapeshifter pauses in what seems to be an open space within the Forest, neither hearing nor smelling anyone else in close proximity. He judges this present location to be ideal for his intention, nodding slightly to himself. Drawing in as deep a breath as he could manage, Siberian issues forth the loudest roar he has ever sounded, a roar full of all of his pent up emotions, rage chief among those. As the notes of his cry fade back into the silence of the air around him, he has but one wish: that it was somehow loud enough to have touched the ears of whatever horse had blinded him, and that they are left trembling in its aftermath.
Siberian
The sexy grizzly boy of Beqanna