After his arrival, there was another – another mare even – that was accompanied by a panther. Immediately, Wilibald’s ears shot back and he retreated back a couple steps, wondering why everyone else was acting so calm. Did the panther belong to this herd? Was this a normal occurrence? Oh Wilibald old boy, what have you gotten yourself into?

He was distracted, partially, by one of the horned mares speaking to him, asking if he thought the injured mare was ‘fucking retarded’. Now, Wilibald wasn’t up-to-date on all these new slangs and curses so he wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. Youths, always coming up with new words and expecting everyone else to know what they meant. Though he had a bit of an idea, and replied respectfully – not really understanding that any of her anger was focused on him. “Well I don’t know, miss, I suppose her injuries may be making her late. But that is no reason to use foul language.” The comment was innocent enough though maybe it did not seem so, as it was spoken just before he took another step back. But it wasn’t the mare with growths sticking out of her head (she should get that checked out) – it was that darn panther. Nope, he really wasn’t sure whether all the clover in the world was worth hanging around in this place.

None of these mares seemed to get just how close to death the one they called Seele really was. Was the red one going to go get someone to speak the last words? Eating plants never helped anyone heal, every pony knew that. It just put more fat around your belly and made you much happier. Oh, maybe that was the plan! Make the mare happy before she died. That seemed like quite the wonderful thing to do.

He might as well help.

So turning around in a circle he found a patch of relatively-long, early growing grass – sweeter than what you normally found in the winter and something he had been eyeing for the past few minutes, and grabbed a mouthful of it. Then, very carefully, he moved through the crowd – taking as wide of a berth to the panther as possible – and dropped the grass before this ‘Seele’ character. “It's the good stuff.” Was all he could think to say, poor thing that she was, before he waddled backwards to give her some space. There really was no better honour and maybe she didn't really deserve it (his own stomach grumbled in protest) but if he was going to stay here he might as well make the best of the situation. Helping out a dying member was a pretty iffy start but it was a start!