Mekoa laid on Guthriekai's back, still not entirely coherent. Good thing the saddle was comfortable. She remained like that until something moved in the silence. Her dark eyes snapped open as Guthriekai whickered a small warning. As she breathed in, a faintly familiar smell. The smell of coy flowers. The smell of-<br/><br/>"Hello M'ekoanishdei."<br/><br/>Trouble.