Tigerlily ran blindly through the forest, blue eyes filled with tears. She should not have come here. It had been wrong of her to deceive Ysabel. It was not Elvira that she had come for at all, but another, a ghost from her past that she thought might bring her some peace. But there was no peace to be had. Everything only hurt that much more, now that Tigerlily knew that she was truly alone in her grief. She had been a damn fool for thinking that Dances With Wolves would need her. All she ever did was hurt – hurt others and herself. A groan left the buckskin splash mare’s lips involuntarily, a sound of deep pain and despair. Was there no end to this? What this to be her life, a continuous string of gut-wrenching disappointments and heartbreak after heartbreak? That was no life. Not one that Tigerlily wanted to live.

The chaos that had been concentrated into one clearing when Lily had first entered the woods had spread, so that those fighting one another were scattered over quite a range. Instinct drove the distraught mare to avoid all others, not even stopping to find out if they were friend or foe. She stumbled over twisting roots, falling and skinning her knees anew. She was unfazed by this, oblivious to the pain. It was nothing compared to how she suffered internally. What was another layer of scar tissue in the grand scheme of things? As she limped along, picking up her pace, Tigerlily froze suddenly, tearful blue eyes widening in shock. The wind carried a scent upon it, one that caused her heart to ache anew. Björn. He was nowhere in sight, and Tigerlily might have called for him, a desperate scream, saying: ‘Ég er hérna! I am here!’ But the glimpse of figure through the trees was enough to open the floodgates of her grief and Tigerlily was helpless against the force of her wild emotions. She could do nothing but be borne along by her anger at the world.

The silver black brute who wolfishly roamed the jungles neighbouring her home had never himself done anything to Tigerlily, but he was unlucky in that he was the only one nearby. Tigerlily hurt so much, she hurt so much and she didn’t want to hurt alone. And so, with rage burning along her veins – a fire that had been started by Warsaw, fed by Björn’s brother, and stoked by the callous indifference and rejection of Dances With Wolves, Tigerlily rushed towards the Paradise King, screaming her defiance and anger. She remembered his face, from that day on the shores of the Ridge when she had confronted Warsaw and made a fool of herself and Björn both. Warsaw and Ivar weren’t here, and even if Dances was, Tigerlily wouldn’t have it in her to hurt him, despite how badly he’d hurt her.

So, she’d settle for the ally of her oldest enemy.

Tigerlily charged, unthinking, towards him, her shrill cry giving her away long before she’d drawn near, and her irrational mental state would surely hinder her as much as her weakened physical state did. This may prove to be even more reckless than anything she’d done before, but everything was in motion now, and there was no turning back for the buckskin mare.

.