the walk from the lagoon to the peak is a long one. she suffered no serious injuries from the scuffle with cullen but she is sore and tired. her mind feels weak, like she is always one thought away from losing track of what direction she was heading in. her temper feels short, a hairs-breadth away from snapping… she had been so angry for so long that she wondered if that deep rooted irritation would ever leave her.

she doesn’t waste time but she doesn’t hurry either. she doesn’t know who or what would greet her when she finally reached that rocky crest she considered home. would kunžak still be there? she had been so sharp with him… and even now she feels somewhat justified in that. it would have been his fault if their little rescue crew had been forced to stay… Božena hadn’t wanted to be there, by any means, but it was just as distasteful to be bargained for as it had been to be won by the cullen. there was no honor being treated as such. she does think though, of the moment he had come crashing through the brush, so desperate to reach her that he was blind to the obstacles in his path. was it just out of loyalty that he came? or guilt? she is scared of finding out.

her heart has cooled somewhat…. the blind rage has simmered and while her separation from him had been nearly intolerable she is confused about what she wants from him now… she had proven that she could protect herself. she didn’t need him for that. she is as big, as strong… and with time she could gain the experience. it doesn’t stop her heart from yearning for him though. nothing would quell the hope that someday his loyalty would turn to love.

she pushes these thoughts brusquely away as she finally nears the mountain foothills… her dark eyes soften for moment as she looks up the winding path toward the higher meadows. despite all that had transpired it would feel so good to be back… with that she sets off at a quicker pace than she had taken all day. each large black hoof carefully tracing the rocky path upwards. her body is hard, with wiry muscle gliding beneath the soft black fluff of her coat. she needed the nourishment spring was ushering in. she moves with a hawklike grace, predatory and certain, as she ascends. she can smell the scattered scents of strangers, new residents of the peak she hopes… she raises her roman nosed head proudly, wearing the blunt scrapes and bruises from her battle with honor. whomever she met atop the rocky trail would know she belonged there.