So much had happened since Tor had entered Helovia. Her home Helovia, her country Helovia, the allies and enemies in Helovia. The gods that had gifted her with the true magic power to heal. She was a humble horse, rarely asking for more, yet she wanted to pray, to speak to the gods. Tor had no wish for a companion to share her mind, but she did want to be able to communicate with life itself. Animals, or plants? The mare's mind could not quite settle on one or the other, and so she had come slowly, almost cautiously, the veins where the gods' magics throbbed in the very earth itself. Earth. Yes, Tor was tempted for the ability to understand the whispers of the trees and the cry of the owl, but she could not settle for both. From what she understood, to hold more magic than two was unsafe, unhealthy, and could blow your body sky-high. Who was Tor to come asking the divines for more powers, more magic? Slowly she had come, yet the gods' powers pulled on her, reeled her in like a snake drawn to heat.
And so here she came, the draft mare tired with fatigue at the long climb, snow still glittering on the earth's crust. Harsh rocks grated underneath her as she climbed arduously upwards. The sun was setting, spilling blood over the powdery snow, sending rays of light across the darkening violet-navy sky glistening heavily with stars. There wasn't much she could do other than hope for a god to answer her, to speak to her, which may change the nature of her gift itself. "Father Earth, please, I ask you can come to me. I appreciate your gift of healing, love it, and I do not wish to be greedy, and I know the whims of a mortal must hardly brush your mind. Please, Father Earth, will you come to me?"
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