At first, the near-emptiness of the New Isle is fine with the ice dragon: after all, it means people leave him be. Neverwhere hadn’t bothered to come scowl at his taking over, which suggests the bald-faced mare isn’t very interested nor invested in the island to her north. She is, of course, very much playing favourites, but not with him.

His stomach wins it, in the end. The once frozen place has been turned to a less-frozen version of itself, and the transformation turned ‘little food’ into ‘hardly any scraps at all’. Animals that had died had also been turned to dust, and even Leilan, or perhaps just Leilan as a dragon, decides that he is not stubborn enough to live out his days in hunger -not just to claim a territory that nobody else wanted.

His wings carry him to the Field, but his dragon shape does not attract any visitors; what animals he sees all leave the scene. He wonders if Castile is still around; if he made Beqanna into a fearful bunch of horses and lands; with the exception perhaps of the magicians, who mostly would be enjoying the show.

He turns back, to see if the Meadow or Forest perhaps hold a deer for him - and then he spies the familiar form down below. Sabra.

She hadn’t been in Hyaline when he last visited; the ice had been broken from the inside out, so he knew she hadn’t been eaten or taken away, but woken by herself. Part of him had been sorry he hadn’t been around when she woke, part of him had been very, very glad he wasn’t there to be the subject of her anger.

He lands in the grass, and his wings retreat to his back and his body sits in a cat-like manner. Whatever the type of bird had been singing, unfortunately falls dead-silent. As if such a bird would be any type of useful meal - in fact he would welcome one if they’d like to rid his scales if littler insects. ”Sabra.” he names her, his tail swishing in the grass until it meets his front paws. ”You finally made it back, I see.” Part of the reason that he hadn’t been there when she woke, was that waiting was the one thing that bored him the most.

His eyes squint at her and the javelin piercing her. ”Not unharmed though? Did you walk into a tree?” he tilts his head at her, blinking fake-innocently.

As the scaled figure sits there, the woman - including the spear - whom he addresses doesn’t seem too grateful. In fact she seems rather cross with him, a fact that he initially can’t get quite behind, but to be honest he had already expected it; she would be one of those to ask for one thing and mean another, then get upset as his misinterpretation. Still he’d hoped to catch her a little more off-guard with the little joke, as usually, upset horses couldn’t help but crack a miniature smile when he distracted them that way.

Not Sabra: she doesn’t get easily distracted, which would have been admirable in literally any situation where he was not the subject of her anger. She’s furious. Thunder rolls and the mare attacks him, and the male is super glad that his shifting is enough out of control, that his body is still draconic - his scales protect most of him, though when she tries (hindered by the spear, thank goodness) for his wings he shifts them away uneasily. She also yells about killing horses who are clearly not in their right mind, and though he looks very uneasy, his mind dares to wander to perhaps doing exactly that once more, if only to break free of her - but he knows it’s only a temporary solution, and he can’t run away forever.

So, he restrains himself from that idea, but he does answer her coolly while she feasts her hooves upon his unfeeling scales. ”I know you’re immortal, Sab. And if I may say so, you look a lot better now,” he says. Arguably that is, as she looks physically hurting, which may or may not be the only reason she hadn’t flown up to take an eye out, or something; so far, she’s leaving him relatively unscathed. ”Much more like your old self.” he finishes the thought hopefully before she gets into another fit, but can’t help to smile. Yes. Definitely like she should be. Completely normalled-out. Taking on dragons and all that.

When she finally notices her teeth not hurting him, or perhaps she just wants to out more of her frustrations because she has more to say - she continues with the cave. Perplexed, he bows his head to stare directly at her - thankfully her energy is dying down. ”You’d rather have the vermin eat you, and I should just leave your body to rot away?” Seriously? Was all that dragging her to a safe place and not eating her and even preventing her from being eaten by other things - all that he did to preserve her and have her return as healthily as one could - that got her extra ANGRY with him?

Really?

”That’s the last time I’m granting a request from you, for sure.” Were he still a horse, he would have snorted - now, it’s a similar sound but she gets sprinkled with tiny snowflakes. His tone is again, or still (what’s the difference in his case) not entirely serious: it’s likely that he would actually do something else for her if she asked, as a way of making it up to her.

The dragon’s gaze follows the pretty pearlescent mare in thought, mulling over her appearance. She was being very distrustful, and he could almost think he earned it - but also that she was laying it on a bit thick. That was her choice though, he decided. He didn’t need to have anything more to do with her than that they’d mutually agree to separate their ways - or rather, that she didn’t go after him for something as stupid as revenge.

”Maybe you have a point.” he agrees on the spear. Still, it looks hurtful. What ever did she do to earn that one? But he’s not gonna get the answer out of her anytime soon.

She’s already leaving - again, perhaps - and this time he stands up, too, spreading his wings in a stretch. ”Goodbye Sab. See you around, maybe.” He says goodbye as if he’s parting with an old friend for an unknown time, and this time, his smile does reach his eyes. However, he doesn’t think she appreciates anything he ever does, so he doesn’t linger. Not this time. He’s bothered her long enough.