Andarin: The Mountains: my pony. MINE. *hoards*

horse stock by colourize @ deviantArt ; photomanipulation by Lore

“ Death is the only god that comes when you call. ”
- Roger Zelazny

I realized.

Her face is burned, red and blistering. It’s what he did to her, I realize. I had heard of it – I always do – but I had not seen it. That he’d burned her in the face, Lycoris, who is probably the most harmless pony to ever step in this forsaken land.

Somehow, that makes my guilt over using Gleipnir on him – which was almost nonexistent – go even further down.

I have punished him for his stupidity. Well punished. I know my smile isn’t nice. I don’t want it to be. But if you go near him again and he hurts you again… then it’s on you, Lycoris, ok?

Because well. I warned him and now I warned her; if she continues this folly… it’s her own damn fault.

The wind, however, quite unheeding of my thoughts, curls around her with soothing iceness, in the exact way they usually don’t; when I come to my senses it’s to me sliding into place by her side, teeth carding through her mane in what I hope is a calming manner.

He hates me now. Why did he have to do this in the first place?

FENRISULFR
an axe age, a sword age, shields will be cloven;
a wind age, a wolf age, ere the world sinks.