RipEar groaned as his neck began to burn. Shocked from sleep, he hissed and clamped his eyes shut, praying that doing so could block out the pain. When he quickly found that it didn't, he tensed up his muscles, levitated Blue's head from his back and frowned at the small dribble of drool which remained on his fur. He ignored this; he was well aware that he was covered in much worse.

As he lay the mare's head down slowly—he smiled as he watched her mumbles—RipEar stood up. He gasped at the pain which reared its horrid muzzle and then battled against his legs in the fight not to collapse; he won only slightly. With a sigh as the pain in his neck subsided, then he took a tentative step forwards.

The ache, not surprisingly, was quick to return. Its gentler surges than before were, however, greatly appreciated, so much so that a shaky smile even managed to form on his face. He then walked—or, rather, hopped—a little faster, doing so with fairly decent momentum, even if he was far from collected.

As he wandered aimlessly, RipEar had no idea where his legs were carrying him. He zoned out, lost in his own thoughts as he bumbled forwards, the relief much needed. In hindsight, it had been reckless to have taken the job. Whether he was fond of the village or not was no reason to have endangered Blue so, or Coalburst—though the filly was less of a guilt-trip, admittedly. The payment of a few weapons seemed measly after all that they'd been through.

But then, could he really claim that was the case? Blue had found herself a wonderful set of armour, to be sure, and Coalburst had gotten the rapier as well. Though not so much use to her as her fire, it was still a good find. The threat of a changeling invasion had been very real for the poor village and he himself had managed to save Roamer and Marchande—was she back yet?—as well. Sane equine life was in short supply as it was. And, in truth, the experience for Blue had surely been invaluable; to be able to learn the reality of life outside first-hoof, while still close enough to a village to get help afterwards, was something most foals would have dreamed of. She would be hurt when she woke up, for certain, but surely she would have fared worse in another situation if she'd wound up alone and still completely green in terms of combat.

A high-pitched yelp shocked him from his thoughts as something warm and somewhat-squishy met his chest. He leapt backwards and he shook his head, groaning as pain made his eyes water. Brushing the tears away, his gaze darted about until it landed on the culprit who now lay on the floor; it was none other than Cu.

"Oh. Sorry," RipEar grunted as he bent down to lend a hoof. He then took a sharp breath in at the movement and instead opted for lifting her up with magic. He gave her a small smile. She, however, did not reciprocate the expression as her muzzle fell open.

"Dear Celestia, RipEar! You poor thing! Gosh, your neck..." Cu shuddered and tore her gaze away, back hunched. "It's downright awful!"

RipEar rolled his eyes slightly as he stumbled past her. "No, really?" he snapped and threw out a rear leg before he winced a little and recoiled quickly. "No point wasting breath if you've got nothin' useful to say."

Cu's ears dropped back as her head fell and her muzzle brushed the dirt. She gave a few small nickers, licking her lips and chewing rapidly. With her tail tucked between her legs she pawed at the ground a little, her gaze kept firmly away from RipEar. He, in turn, merely scowled; he rolled his eyes at her, gritted his teeth and limped past, his cropped tail swishing at her ears. Her head shot up and her eyes followed him as he hobbled away. She let out a breath before she then turned away a second later, trotting in the opposite direction and into one of the village huts.

Out of the corner of his eye, RipEar could see her retreating. With a short snort, he hung his head and continued on his way, his neck wound just about visible in his range of vision. He balked and walked forwards more determinedly, his mind wandering again. Thoughts of doubt filled his mind as he did so; to kill was an expected skill out here, but it was still an abhorrent act. He could only hope that Blue would forgive him for doing what he had to—not only for himself, but for her as well.

She knew nothing of her past life, that was undeniable. But whatever the case, whether she knew the horrors that they had suffered through together or not, she would have to be able to accept and trust ponies for who they were, actions and all—but not just on a whim, as seemed to be her preference. Because, in the end, a pony who struggled to kill would never survive outside alone.