Why apologize? The question - though not a rebuke - pulls Rethe up short and she looks away, chewing over the words. She was apologizing because she thought she was supposed to. Because her mother said she should, if she cared about Tefnut. She breathed out slowly, consideringly.

The problem was, she didn't really feel that sorry. She still felt burned by what Tefnut had done. Her lack of reverence in claiming the Bay. Her lack of communication and impulsivity in promoting a mare that had equally little connection to the Bay as her equal. Or Apex as a sublead.

And, while Rethe didn't like admitting it, those things hurt more because at no point had Rethe even been considered. Even though she was Tefnut's mare. Even though they were supposed to be close. To be friends, at least, if not working on more. Even though Rethe held the connection to the land. To the neighbors. To Tinuvel itself. Hell, her own mother had once led this herd herself. Who better to hold a position in the Bay now?

Worse still, it had felt like Tefnut did not consider her an equal, worthy of being considered for either role, and that burned.

Still mulling over all of this, she made a soft hum of acknowledgement but did not immediately speak, her gaze stormy with the chaotic nature of her thoughts. Her mother had encouraged her to apologize, but only if she felt that the friendship she shared with Tefnut was worth saving. She had also encouraged the girl to consider what it was that was important to her: was it truly that she wanted power, or was it something else?

In the end, Rethe had come to the realization that it wasn't power she wanted. It would have been nice to have had a job or a purpose beyond just chewing grass and following game trails, but that wasn't why she had gone to the Commons to begin with. Rethe had wanted a companion, and she still had that, if she was willing to look past the slights. Kohelet had guided her to that realization and had encouraged her to let herself be softer. To let someone - anyone - in, even if it was only as far as her mental foyer.

"Uh, sure," she said awkwardly as Tefnut dragged her mind back to the present, and she froze as the other woman set about adjusting her mane. Even as a filly, Rethe had never been particularly fond of her appearance, nor had she really cared for it. To be complimented on it felt foreign to her, but she was trying.

"Thanks," she murmured, not meeting Tefnut's eyes. Her ears tipped back again before she forced them into a relaxed state, grasping on to the dun's earlier question that she had skipped over.

"You asked about my favorite weather," she said, somewhat bluntly, dragging her eyes from the ground to dash across her face before finally settling on the treeline again. "In the winter, on sunny days after a long snow, sometimes you can climb to the base of the mountain and look down on a world bright from blue skies but covered by what looks like a crazy storm. The wind catches the snow and it feels like a blizzard on the ground, but magical from up higher."