With the ashen taste of my conversation with Maugrim fading slowly from my tongue, I find myself leaving Sylva with an avalanche of thoughts crushing what might have been my better judgement. As the tawny leaves of eternal autumn turn to a crisp new snowfall belowhoof, I swing my head eastward, then westward; but even as the scentline of one pain-in-the-ass kingdom comes and goes beneath me, I stay on a course due north-west, hoping to be home by nightfall.

Of course, in the throes of winter, the sun sets more quickly on our magical continent; and by the time I'm just reaching Loess' most northern peak, a moonless night has wrapped itself around me. It's cool breeze and inky nothingness coaxes me to complacency, reassuring me in its untrustworthy voice that it will be safe to sleep here. That, if Wolfbane though he could allow my prisoner to fail to uphold her end of the deal; that, if Lepis had the audacity to approach my child in the name of an unknown cause; that, if they wanted to kill me, they'd better fucking do it now before I beat them to it.

The ash resettles in my mouth at the thought.

Ears pinning beneath their crown of bone and skin, I close my eyes. Despite the heaviness of sleep weighing me down, a surge of agitated energy flows still in my veins, guiding me to my dreams before I can even have a second chance to reevaluate the implications of this instinctual bed-letting.

---

Are you out there, Wolfshit?

My words echo through the abyss, searching for a pirate king. My better sense screams, but her voice is entirely silenced by the brash and all-controlling nature of my current impulsiveness and rage.

Face me, if you aren't a coward.

Politics be damned.

A spot of guilt colours my cheeks the split second after I spit his name. The image of a sweet young girl splashing in a pool of innocence fades quickly after my words, and I wonder if I ought to have interrupted something so intimate in nature. I didn't recognize the girl from my quick glance of her: but the stallion I do know, and as I force myself to follow through with my next phrase, his head slowly turns to face me.

Father.

Well, shit. That's not what I was going for.

A chill runs down my spine upon witnessing the glitter of the stallion's unusually green eyes, and the sensation burrows straight to my bones upon seeing the fangs that trace the outline of his lips. But the chill turns to heat as I receive what I'd come to, adrenaline sparking across the nerve endings of my skin in heated anticipation. It doesn't matter who he thinks I look like - the fact is that we will settle things between our nation now, one way or another.

I've been waiting to kill you.

"Give it your fucking best."

The now-red-striped stallion raises his wings and, in a devastatingly powerful movement, launches himself toward me. A war cry pierces the veil of silence around us as I throw my weight back on to my hind legs, chin tucked to present my antlers to the Loessian king's forelegs, chest, and neck. I dream them to be made of metal and stone, for he approaches with such speed that their regular bone would be subject to snapping.

There's a sound of tearing and I realize that I'm breathlessly strewn along the floor of nothingness, the wind knocked out of me from Wolfbane's tackle. I taste blood in my mouth where I'd bitten my tongue, but with a grit of my teeth I surge back to my hooves, and in the next moment, two bird-feather wings of my own send me skyward.

It's my turn to charge him now - and in a show of aerial battle, I attempt to fly above the Fjord's broad back, hooves - dreamt as talons now - striking out and attempting to leave bleeding rivers in their wakes.

In the real world, the dreamweaver twitches and snarls, ears shuddering to and fro though no sounds in her neck of the forest can be heard. Bruises form beneath the first layers of her skin, blood pooling and begging to be released over the mahogany and bone of her fur coat. It would make them even, to bleed, wouldn't it? It would make things right.

As Wolfbane evades the worst of the damage from my talons, a shriek looses itself from my throat, birdlike and angry. A roar of his own replies to mine, lionlike and powerful in the breadth of his chest; I snarl and snap my teeth at his show of aerial finesse, pulling a stunt I could never hope to given my inexperience with flight.

In the heat of the moment (all too literally, I'm about to find out) I loosen my grasp on the dream, giving him leeway over what shall and shall not be. When I see the stallion erupt in flames, the more sensible part of me slaps her palm to her face and groans. That's literally exactly how my grandmother's best friend Scorch wound up ugly and mutilated and hairless, by dreaming herself on fire out of pure confidence and foolishness. Quietly, I dream the Loessian king fire-proof; he'll thank me later when he wakes up with his fur still intact.

Of course, this leaves me the perfect target for the angry pegasus; and it's a moment too late when I realize he's launched flaming projectile my way. Portals open in front of me, but not quite in time; two projectiles find their mark on my breast one after the other. The flames sear off my fur, and the pain of it in my dream is magnified by the pain of it in reality. Snarling, I maneuver the portals in such a way that Wolfbane's projectiles fly back at him, adding insult to injury should they find their mark. And these projectiles I make sure to not make him impervious to.

As our volcanic battle wages on in the heavens, gravity practically nonexistent, thunder crashes - and in its wake, a thunderous voice:

"Make haste, gladiators, for your time here runs short."

Hurling a lightning bolt in Wolfbane's direction, I scream my last in defiance, knowing that the dream will shortly be over.

Kagerus?!

His voice rings out across the plains of Loess, or else, the last dregs of our dream; I'm near him now, or perhaps he is near me, both of us having teleported to a more suitable meeting-ground than his stone spire nest that he'd fallen asleep in. The forest around seems distant, reality still gathering in the midst of our questionable lucidity.

When I open my eyes, gasping and body throbbing in too many places to count (though the burns stick out quite evidently), he is there. Tail docked, spine bleeding, veins popping where the lightning struck him. I wince upon seeing that, using what dream I have left to undo the damage of that last flash; I put some mind to my chest too, but to a lesser extent than I put to his. I wonder if he can feel me manipulating the fibers of his being; but I'm too exhausted to find out.

"I can heal you if you want." The offer is gruff, laced with the exhaustion which leadens my bones and threatens to pull me out of the dream completely. 

"But - thanks for the fight. You put up a good one. And I needed it." It's as if I'm speaking to a ghost, my eyes glazed over and barely present; but their depths clear after a moment, as my mind travels to my step daughter, the question of her safety reviving me. I square my shoulders, peer through the haze of the dying dream, and find Wolfbane's gaze.

"I want Valdis back, Wolfbane. Your Lepis has made a mess of our kingdoms' relationship but I'm willing to pin that on the kingdom she rules now. I'm tired. Let this fruitless drama die." A harsh laugh escapes me. "Let's just be neighbours again."

"Please."

Not neighbours, allies.

He speaks the words as he stands, and I glance away from the mess that we've made of each other as we now stand breast to breast. I inhale to reply but am beat to it by Lord Wolfbane as he elaborates of my step-daughter's whereabouts and well being. It's good information to know so I seal my lips for the time being, perking my ears to consider that which he has to say.

Intriguingly, the heavy set creature also goes on to detail the nuances of our nations' new relationship. I offer no interjection yet, figuring that if he's finally willing to meet Hyaline's demands - not that there were many beyond "maybe don't attack our members and children without provocation" - I won't step in and fuck that up for all of us. After all, that would make tonight's efforts for naught; and Solace would be grievously angry with me considering that she'd not approved of this plan at all in the first place. Or at least, that's how she let on.

"I won't say no to peace, Wolfbane. And I hope that the peace can continue beyond that which Loess owes Hyaline. If not, I understand - you have your ways, and we have ours."

Exhausted, my eyes flutter closed; and in the darkness that ensues, two things occur: his wounds heal over, and I find myself awake in Hyaline.