The sun’s heat was blissfully warm against Roland’s back, and already the water was beginning to dry from his golden hide. With his wound washed, the torn flesh was already beginning to feel better, and the throbbing pain that had pulsed through his neck had lessened to a faded sting. The stallion watched in silence as water streamed from Arah’s cream hair, pooling around her feet in the tall grass. He smiled dryly at her chastising remark, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. As much as he would have liked to remain beneath a blue sky and bright sun, he knew it was time to return to the Basin. It was foolish to have left in the first place, though he hadn’t exactly been in his right mind. He was grateful for having stumbled across Arah, and he hadn’t even had to con kindness from her.

Even though she wasn’t a proper healer, she had at least directed him towards the road to recovery. With his wound cleaned, it wouldn’t be such a bumpy journey. “Thank you for your help,” he said earnestly, sapphire eyes following the white doe’s gaze as she looked down at a solitary flower dancing languidly in the breeze. Stretching his stiff neck, he squinted across the field, tracing the dark tree line with his eyes. The very thought of the long trek back home, if he could even call it that yet, made his muscles ache. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Arah suddenly let out a jarring cry of pain, causing a startled bird to leap from the grass. The stallion’s head snapped back in her direction, heart leaping in his chest. He was already moving towards her before he realized what had happened.

Given her awkward posture, he assumed she’d gotten her hoof stuck in a rabbit hole. The scent of blood mingled sickeningly with the fragrance of wildflowers as he neared, and Roland grimaced as he looked down at the crimson stain on Arah’s fetlock. The mare’s voice was laced with pain as she gasped out a plea for help, pulling at her limb in hopes of releasing it from the earth’s grip. Roland ignored her extraneous words and stepped closer, touching his muzzle comfortingly against her neck. “Stop moving,” he commanded, mind frantically searching for a way to free her. He could try and dig away the rocks and dirt with his blade-like horn, but it would be too easy to slip and cut her when the stones dug so firmly into her skin.

He dismissed her apology with a shake of his head, moving to stand perpendicular to her and lowering his head to press the crest of his neck against her throat. His knees buckled slightly as he tried to lower himself to match her height, shoulder brushing against her chest. Water dripped from her mane onto his withers, but he ignored the cool dampness and steadied himself. “When I push, try and lift your foot free,” he instructed. It wasn’t going to be easy for her to work her hoof loose, but he could think of no other way.

Hopefully the pressure of his body against hers would be enough to wrench her free, but the wound would have to be washed before they did anything else. They would seem quite the pair, both returning to the Basin boasting wounds of their own. Roland might have found some dry humour in their predicament, but he was too focused on helping her escape from the sharp stones. Taking in a deep breath, he tensed his limbs and pushed against her chest, lifting his neck to put gentle pressure against her throat.

(Sorry for the wait! I had a busy week at school.)

walk walk walk
"talk talk talk"