No dreams within her heart,
but dreams of love.

The ocean mare is taken by surprise when she feels the stallion’s gentle but firm prodding, encouraging her from her string of herbs. She almost resists his urging, too consumed with the drive and need to see him healed—to see him whole and unbroken, the haunting image of their nightmare lingering in her mind’s eye—but ultimately she resigns, knowing that she cannot fight him. Slowly her muscles relax, allowing him to push her away from his aid, the herbs still grasped desperately between her cobalt lips.

He insists that it is nothing—that the wounds and the blood and the pain are nothing—and her lips purse tighter around the dried sprigs, a righteous indignation flaring within her heart. It isn’t nothing—it can’t be nothing! She wants to insist, to plead with him, but noticing the sudden weariness that seems to weigh across the stallion’s shoulders, she holds her tongue in favor of his fatigue. It wouldn’t do to argue, after all. And so with a forcefulness that the healer is unaccustomed to, she swallows her protests.

Still, her long leonine tail flicks restlessly, thick hairs brushing across the cold, stone ground. It is only when she feels a nudging against her knee that the ocean mare looks away from the Haruspex, finding that Lochan is staring up at her with his wide, luminous eyes. Immediately she smiles, arching her neck to give the young cerndyr the herbs. Her heart blossoms with both warmth and gratitude. She appreciates Lochan’s care far more than the little one can understand at this point, and she nuzzles him affectionately, pressing her muzzle against his dark fur and breathing a sigh of thankfulness.

Ashamin will never be alone, she realizes, finally recognizing the full and tender relationship between a bonded pair.

It is a heart-warming realization.

With her mind at last at ease, the blue mare shifts closer to the painted stallion, bright eyes seeming to catch all the night light in their radiance. “Very well,” she murmurs, reaching to press her lips against his neck, angling her body so they are side-by-side. The Haruspex will not be alone this night—she will be here, as long as he might need her. She will be at his side. “Come, Ashamin—let’s rest. You need to rest,” gently, she coaxes him to the ground, the cold bite of distance unable to separate the warmth between them.


notes; <333 I believe we decided to end this here?
“Speech.”