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I follow the first mare's gaze towards the flock of birds following her. "Funny, the chicks usually follow me," I joke, but it falls flat on my lips. I can almost hear the tumbleweed. If I was a muscle-bound, swaggering stud of studliness then perhaps that jest would actually be funny, but alas, I am not, and it is not. "They don't, actually. Forget I said that." I force a smile, feeling my skin heat beneath my fur. See, this is why I usually choose to lurk awkwardly away from society - my unfunny jokes and trying-too-hard aura ensure that I always struggle to make friends. She introduces herself as Sheba, and I dip my head in recognition. The black cobweb-mare adds her name, as well as that of her companion, and they both receive a nod as well. The tiniest grin of amusement flickers at the corner of my muzzle at the antelope's name, and a nostalgic mist floats across my eyes. One of the humans at the stable had had a spotted dog called Pongo. Goodness knows where they got that name from. She suggests sharing our healing knowledge, and reveals she is of the same rank. My ears prick and my head lifts, immediately interested. She answers Sheba's question for me as well, and I nod my agreement. "Yep, that's what I'm doing. With recent events, you can never have too many herbs stored!" I am referring, of course, to the recent Bear God fight. "I would definitely love to share what we know!" She turns, displaying her mane, which drips with herbs. "Ooh! Which ones have you got there?" My enthusiasm makes me bounce on my hooves as I resist the temptation to stick my face into Morrigan's mane to examine her chosen herbs. Instead I gesture to a small pile of my own, gathered near Pongo. "They're the leaves of a raspberry plant. They can help clot the blood - I used them recently on a mare who had a difficult birth, to stem her bleeding." I'm still insufferably proud of that, and thank the humans for their knowledge of alternative medicine. |
@Sheba @Morrigan
