Anastasia kept to the back, and kept quiet. Her eyes were misty, as far from Earth as two stars. Her mind was on the past.
When she had first met these newcomers, it was a thrill, it was exciting. It was a break from the ordinary routine of the day, and it had given her a chance to have a little fun. Now that she had been beaten at her own game, as it were, that thrill was gone. The ecstasy of conflict, that exuberance she loved too well, had given way to its bitter results. As they walked along, her anger, as that fiery emotion is wont to do, began to dissipate. What she was left with was bitterness for Gore, and the empty twin offspring of egotism, self-pity and self-loathing. The more she thought about it, the more she groaned at it. She had been given a chance at companionship, an opportunity to join genial travelers, to leave her empty life in a plot of grass in the middle of a forest.
"And what did I do?" she thought, "The only thing I know how to do apparently. I ran my mouth at them, vicious, spiteful little imp that I was. I never could hold my tongue; it was for this incorrigible obstinance, this incorrectable fault, that my own father disowned me. Now, in mere minutes, I've already shown them exactly what I am... But I was driven to it! If it hadn't been for that great dog and his..."
And she went on, dwelling on her own inability to please herself, her father, and these creatures, and the even more grievous faults that those creatures shared. Mostly, she focused on the culmination of it all, the result of her evil and their greater evil: That is, their hatred for her.
Now, it may have been true that Gore and Jaydin disliked the brat, but whatever feelings they had, Anasatasia imagined them to be a thousand times stronger. Gore was, of course, her irreconcilable enemy, and since Jaydin was apparently on his side, he no doubt felt the same as he did. Dawn was courteous, but the princess had spent too long in the royal court to pay much mind to mere courtesy. Manners, ethically induced respect, and other empty formalities made no impression on Anastasia, but convinced her that he had the same disdain. He was simply decent enough to hide it. She saw what she wanted to see, and since she was in the low and sour mood of self-pity, she saw unjust judgment, in him as well as the rest.
And so she went on, isolated in the back of the group, silently suffering a thousand insults never spoken, or even thought, by the others.
She resolved not to speak unless spoken to, partly out of some sort of irrational resentment, and partly to try and make up for the faults she had already displayed.
