War. A mistress bound only by death. And yet it is upon the wings of war that he has lead himself and his herd. Monster, his pretty little viper, forever bound to him by the same beast that lusts for the blood. She is at his heels, no doubt Zjeena not far behind. The drama's of Liland's bastard deed taking a toll upon her soul. He worried for her, wished he could have commanded her to remain behind and yet there was the selfish part of him that wanted her at his side with Monster where she belonged. The two halves of his heart beating to the same drums of chaos and uprising.

Jabari is upon him just as his teeth find purchase upon the painted woman that could be only Persephone's second. Ears lace tight against his skull as he lets forth a hiss of outrage and turns upon the stallion but Monster is there. An amused smile plays upon his whiskered lips as she taunts the boy her cheshire smile a two edged sword. Others arrive, crowding in on the mass of thriving bodies until he thought he might go deaf upon their screams. Face after face he sees, like flashes of scenes meant for nightmares alone. Each turn he made is met with another hard body. A scent, a woman, her curved ears and sharp eyes familiar and yet the venom with which she meet his is foreign. I know her... though the years have robbed him of her name he does not miss the same recognition that passes before her eyes. DId she too sense it? She must.

However no sooner did she appear she is gone, replaced by a thickset black mare and others. The air seemed to grow thin, his world overwhelmed with the charging scene and then he sees them. Persephone and Warsaw. Bloodied and battleworn they free themselves, charging deeper into the shadowed forests. The mare he attacked, the forest queen's second... she catches the sudden departure and she too is off. Rage boils beneath his skin as Rougaru rises above the throng of horseflesh, thick muscular haunches bunching to lend power to his hind limbs as he leaps free of the last tangle of warriors. He does not spare a second glance, afraid that his foe might once more be lost to these unfamiliar lands. He does not glance back for his queens for time and again they proved themselves strong and worthy. He charges forward, ears at attention catching the drifting sounds of retreating hooves.