She might have misread the situation. At least, that is the thought that lingers in her mind as the alabaster mare asks if the black and white patched woman is okay.

For the first time since interjecting herself into the conversation, Khar really stops speaking long enough to look at the stranger. Aside from the obvious dampness of her coat, a clear indicator that she had just arrived in the Peaks on her mission, there is an overall weariness about her. For the first time, Khar’pern recognizes the tears that gather in the corners of her eyes and stain the white rim with veins of red. For the first time, she recognizes the exhaustion etched in the wrinkles of her muzzle. If ever there has been a mare who carried the burdens of the world, it is the patchwork woman who stood begging for forgiveness from Mae.

Raven tipped ears rotate backwards in shame and unspoken apology as her slender hooves shift uncomfortable beneath her. Regardless how poorly she had interjected herself here, she was too invested now to merely back away.

’I was born in the Cove…. Ruled alongside Fell for a time…’ the words silence any apology that might have formed on her own lips. Raven tipped ears pitch forward amid the tendrils of her obsidian mane as Khar drinks in the information being offered. Cove… Cove… the Cove she recognized. It was where the “Tinuvel king” resided was it not? But the image of the dark shape dragging the limp mare’s body across the channel towards Tinuvel could not have belonged to the Tinuvel king. From what she remembered of him, he was a painted beast of sunrise gold. No, he could not have been the dark demon.

’...see him for what he was….’ she blinks silently. Fell? Who is Fell? See him for what? The questions gather on her tongue and she wants desperately to release them, to question the strange mare and drill her for more information. If only to breathe life to the promise she had sent to the dead mare to give her vengeance. Tears again. This time, the tears fall freely from the corners of her eyes, leaving dark trails in intricate patterns down the contours of the painted mare’s face. Sympathy glitters in her own glassy eyes as Khar takes a comforting step forward, her own proud head dropping. ’...mares I could have helped… if I’d only realized sooner.’ the weight of her words are filled with conviction. Even without knowing the Tinuel mare’s name, Khar’pern has no doubt that she meant the words that fell from her lips. ”I’m sorry…” the words fall from her lips in a gentle whisper. She knew the cruelty of stallions far too well. Others who have not seen it, or been sheltered behind flattering words or veiled eyes faired far less well when they learned the truth. She felt for them… felt for her.

”Stallions care little for the will of mares. They see them as bellies to fill with children and a warmth for their beds at night.” she murmurs, her brows knitting together at her own memories. The faded memories begin to rise, growing from pale mist to manifesting into the forms of faces she long forgot. She gives her head a quick shake, forcing the memories away before the faces manage to manifest themselves into something recognizable. ”This is why the Peak is here… it is a place of refuge and healing for those who need it most.” Healing. Koh as Mae had called her, needed the healing. Could she find it in the embrace of mother mountain? Perhaps.

She glances at the mare again, at the pained expression on her face and the questions that remain unspoken fall silent. Now was not the time. She had already put her hoof in her mouth once and she did not dare do it again. At least Mae was tactful enough not to draw attention to it and chide her like she rightfully deserved. Fell…. Fell of the Bay. At least now she had a name and a place to begin. She did not need to take him on alone if this was that same Fell that had hurt so many as ‘Koh’ claimed. A face. She just needed a face and then, then she would bring it to the Peak as a whole and then the islands themselves. The death he would be dealt would come slowly, much more painful and slow than the fate he’d given the pale mare. The dark demon would suffer. She would see to it.