Resplendence had chosen to construct her plot not far from where Dragomir had chosen to sleep each night; his circular grove of trees was perhaps twenty, maybe thirty yards from where the woman tended her herbs. He’d seen her about the area quite often but had thought nothing of it until the herd meeting, where she had disclosed what she had so busily been preparing during the times he’d spied her while making his way towards the wall for his daily walk along it. She was pretty, but then again most of the women in this forest were (the equine ones, anyway), and he hadn’t given her much care until she’d mentioned growing things.

His equine heritage, the lessons of racism and the tales of Aarde and Nieque the arrogant, drew him to work with the earth. Not to mention, he had felt quite useful during the last endeavor he had joined in on with those of the Edge (that gleaming, proud wall) and the mare in question was one of his own bloodlines. It would do him well, he figured, to assist her as she had requested, if only to ease the twinges of guilt he still felt over the black mare he had attacked alongside Ricochet.

The other mare… well. She’d asked for it. They had both told her to leave before ever harming a hair on her giant and mutated head, and he would feel no sorrow over assaulting her for pushing her nose where it didn’t belong.

Truly, he was thankful for her. If it hadn’t have been for the earthy pegasus, the other mare surely would have been snuffed from earth by the wicked Ricochet and the gullible and fire hearted boy that was Dragomir, and he wasn’t entirely sure he’d still be around to work on herb gardens if he’d killed someone.

Sure, she had been spying; perhaps she too had asked for it, in a way. But he still couldn’t shake the round image of her belly as she lie there, broken and beaten on the floor, the rain falling down like so many tears on her pelt. If he knew her name or where he might find her, the naïve child within him would apologize for his barbarism, the uncontrollable monster that had escaped him and brought her such pain. Either way, she wouldn’t have heard anything of use to her if he had simply said no.

But loneliness is fickle; it drives one to agree to friendships that seem glaringly disastrous just because one finds a common bond between the two. Honestly, he wasn’t ashamed that he had befriended Ricochet, only that he had done what he had done in reaction to the discovery of Shadow, the cry of his and his father’s God’s name all it had taken to strip him of every ounce of self control he had applied since Mirage’s sober warning.

His shame is seen in the bashful way he enters into Resplendence’s sight, light blue eyes shuffling about as he takes in the sight of her garden, her lack of an ear. He eyes the empty space with a passing thought, wondering if it was torn from her by an oaf as brutal as himself or if she had simply been born this way. It reminds him of the one winged mare he’d met in the Heart, the un-whole aspects of both women intriguing to his scholarly attributes. He hadn’t come here for medical exams, though; he’d come to help her dig and grow, to improve the health and safety of those within the Edge.

Perhaps if his list of benefits outweighed the heaviness of his prior actions, Mirage won’t eat him when she learns of his betrayal.

He doesn’t know her name; the mare had not shared it in the meeting and he cannot recall any others using her title. It doesn’t really matter, he supposes. Introductions were the bread and butter of conversation, an easy place for the awkward man to begin at. He was becoming steadily more adept at opening himself up to those he encountered, but still was no brilliant linguist; his youth bleeds from his pores.

"I am Dragomir," he opens with, glancing to the small furry thing that is dragging plants as big as it is into a pile with a soft smile before returning his eyes to the one eared, strangely red mare, "I heard you were looking for assistance. I have come to provide it, if you find me of any use."

Talking like that, she may think he is incapable of doing much of anything – but I can assure you, he’s clever as he is gullible, and quite strong for being so young. He just will not tell you these things; he honestly doesn’t know himself from the hidden side of a stone.

Dragomir