A huge, shaggy brown form moves through the landscape of the Silver Cove, head swinging from side to side almost rhythmically as he walks. For the first time since his abduction to the Chamber two years ago, Siberian has ventured past its borders. There is no doubt in his mind that he will return there when he is finished with his present business; it is home now, his home and chosen willingly. If there was in truth a raven watching him to report any escape attempts, it would find itself quite bored in its task. His family outside of Beqanna no doubt thought him dead after all of this time, and, well, he basically was. The carefree and innocent colt that had wandered away from the family fold was long gone, replaced by what he had become: a weapon of the Chamber, with indelible blood on his claws and soul. Zayn had seen to that, and the invasion of the Chamber by the assembled forces of the Gates and its allies had ironically driven Siberian deeper into the dark kingdom's embrace. He was theirs now, body, mind, and soul. There was, however, a slight problem, and it needed to be dealt with. He needed balance. Balance between how he had once been while shapeshifted, a horse wearing a bear's skin but none of the instincts; and the present situation, which was a berserker's near-complete lack of control. The Budyonny had judged it best to work on this away from the Chamber and the aftermath of the invasion, and so he had stepped out, further than he had planned, because if he wasn't mistaken this territory didn't even belong to the Chamber at all, but was one of the Valley's herdlands.
This wasn't bad per say, since the two kingdoms were allied, but it hadn't been in his original plans. He manages a brief shrug of large, furry shoulders, more interested in dealing with the bear in his head. It was growling, demanding a target, demanding blood, and it didn't care whose. They can scent something, another horse, and the bear snatches away control to barrel towards whoever it was. It turns out to be a yearling filly, no doubt a Cove resident (and he'd heard there were rather a lot of those!), and the bear lets out a ferocious roar at the sight of her. It would have lunged for the girl, no doubt causing injury if not death (and a "diplomatic incident" that neither the Chamber nor the Valley would have been too pleased with), if Siberian had not managed to mentally force his way back into the captain's chair before it can separate her head from her neck. In his mind's eye, he can see the bear, glowering from a distance but not daring to challenge his reassertion of control. He considers shifting back and eliminating the risk completely, but how would he ever regain total control if he made a habit of doing so every time the bear gave him trouble? The transformed stallion offers the winged girl an ursine grin, doing his best to look friendly after all of that. "Apologies if I scared you....I don't have as much control when shapeshifted as I'd like to, " he admits, matter of factly rather than ashamed. "I'm Siberian, by the way. " Waiting for her response, he mulls over the bear's reaction to being muzzled. Usually, it put up more of a fight than this. Did it secretly have the same soft spot for children that he did? Perhaps this was the key to harnessing it; perhaps she could help him. He looks at the yearling with a deeper interest at this thought, hoping she wasn't too frightened.
Siberian
The sexy grizzly boy of Beqanna