Asking for the Peak mares’ aid in confronting the Lagoon had been painful for Kune. Already humiliated by his loss, and feeling naked without Božena at his side, it had only added insult to injury when he’d been forced to beg them for help when he could barely even speak their tongue. Only one mare, Drika, had deigned to come with him. If there was any solace to be found in her company, it was the fact that she had lost someone too: her very own mother.

Yet given how little he knew her, it was uncomfortable - to say the very least - to travel with her to the Lagoon. Kune had not been in such close quarters with another mare other than Božena in years, and this unfamiliarity caused his old ways to resurface. Kune did not speak to her unless spoken to, and even then, he was monosyllabic (though this was, of course, partially due to the fact that he could barely understand her). Neither did he make eye contact with her, and he allowed her to lead the way and set the pace without complaint.

Kune’s eyes could barely focus on their surroundings even as they entered the Lagoon and the stench of bachelors assaulted his nostrils. He could not stop replaying his fight over and over in his mind, mulling over where he went wrong, and what he might have done differently to win. The Lagoon Boss had been a ferocious fighter, too quick and too smart for Kune. It was a sore reminder of how out of shape and practice he was. If he was to be Božena’s Strážce, he would have to do better.

Another thought his mind kept turning to was that last image of Božena, turning to look at him wordlessly, a storm in her eyes - as if to say, I counted on you - before leaving him and the Peak behind. That image would be burned into his brain forever.

And then, as if by some spirit’s will, there she was: the real Božena. Kune’s gut lifted as if he had suddenly been dropped off a mountain, and he froze. “Drika,” he whispered, but he could summon no more words. Before he could stop himself, Kune was racing to Božena, his tall frame lumbering heavily through the underbrush. He was blind to everything else around them in that moment, and could not have even said if she was alone. She was all that mattered.

“Božena,” he said as he reached her, his voice a low croak, and gave her the once-over before touching her muzzle with his own. He could barely stand to show his own face in front of her, but there would be time to grovel later. “Božena, jsi zraněný?”*

*Translation: Are you hurt?

ooc: wasn’t sure if cullen would be hanging around so i tried to leave it open in case he was