She can’t sleep. The ocean mare lies on the floor of her little cave, her neck stretched out and her white eyes looking out to the sky. Her sisters are playful tonight. They dance with the light of the mountains, bright and colorful, and Tiamat wonders how everything could be so beautiful, when just a few hours ago it had all been so terrible. Memories of the battle still thrash inside her mind. Others had made talk of other wars, other Gods, and somehow she knows she will follow them. Where there is violence, there is bloodshed, and she cannot sit idly by, knowing the possibility of another slaughter. She needs to be there to help the wounded…but tonight she loses herself in play with her sister stars.

There is a rustling outside of her cave that manages to catch the blue mare’s attention, and slender ears curve forward as she raises her head from the stone floor. Shifting her weight and gathering her legs underneath her, Tiamat rises to her hooves just as a leggy little figure dances to her cavern’s entrance. The creature is silhouetted against the dancing colors of the aurora borealis, but she recognizes him anyway. “Lochan!” She crows the little cerndyr’s name happily, lowering her muzzle to greet him and noticing that he is offering her something. Taking it from him, she looks at it—a piece of bark, with an eye drawn onto it—and takes it to be an invitation from Ashamin.

“Well let’s get going then!” She laughs brightly, walking alongside Lochan and towards the Haruspex’s cave. It doesn’t take long for them to round the banks of her brother lake and come into sight of the firelit den, several shadows already outlined by the fire’s orangey glow. Eager to meet more of her fellow herd mates and stand in the comfort of the hearth’s warmth, her pace quickens, white eyes glancing around at the group. “Hello everyone,” she smiles merrily to each of them, happy to see them well, before her gaze falls on her dear friend.

Her eyes widening before her brow pinches together in confusion, Tiamat flicks her lion tail anxiously out behind her. “Ashamin, what happened to you? Are you all right?” He is more colorful than ever before! Red now stains to match the brilliant gold of his wounds, and although it doesn’t seem to be blood (any blood she is familiar with, at least), the black and white stallion doesn’t seem to be entirely at ease. As a healer, the intuition of her instincts swells within her, and calls her to action. She can’t just stand by and watch someone suffer if it is within her power to help them; just as a warrior knows the call of battle in their bones, so does she know the role of mending in her heart.

However, as her eyes flicker with concern from her friend, she notices someone else—another stallion standing among them, the light of the mountains playing across the curve of his body and glistening off the surface of liquid. Blood. “Oh my goodness,” Tiamat gasps, moving to the tall stallion’s side. To say he is wounded would be an understatement—he’s nearly mangled, wounds fresh and bloody, a ghastly sight that nearly makes the ocean mare wince in sympathy. “What—how—?” She isn’t exactly sure what to say. From the looks of it, he shouldn’t even be alive, much less be able to stand there so nonchalantly.

“Uhm, here—” the blue unicorn arches her neck around, her lips fumbling through her hair until she finds a leaf from the comfrey root, an herb that soothes pain. After the battle of the Gods, she had taken to weaving several herbs in her hair, much like she had done with her seaweed, so that she might always have some medicinal tools with her. She offers it to the large black stallion, her eyes skirting concernedly over his wounds. “It will help with the pain,” Tiamat assures him, although from what she can see, he will need much more than a little herb.

And at last I see the light.