After some consideration I had determined that my magic, for some unknown reason, had cured the moon faced colt of his sickness – though I really can’t account for why, considering I barely know anything about the power, or the disease which marks so many, but I am a smart enough guy to figure that it had to have been something to do with whatever inborn gifts I had been given.  And, though I didn’t really know the limits of this power, I was eager to test them on others, to learn what might happen on a different being, in a different place.
 
For instance, did this ability of mine cure only boils, or would it heal other maladies?  And, if I could almost make someone else move their leg the first time I’d truly tried, what else was I capable of forcing to move?  Tales of the monstrous dragon beast of the Steppe, the story mother had once been telling me as we came upon the now General, and former Doctor, in the snows.  My young, overly ambitious heart flutters excitedly at the thought as my hooves clip on the blackened stone below (is it darkened by heat or is it simply black?  No one has been able to tell me).
 
Heat billows back the wisps of my dark mane that are not snared among twigs, leaves, tangles, and Gods know what else with the rest which rests against the muscular curvature of my figure.  Even as the rest of the realm is kissed with the cool touch of spring and its chilled breezes, the Veins is hot as my temper on a bad day, blue and rippling, and as I walk the path towards the familiar shrines, I notice some not so familiar trees, a curious lift of my brows and a swifter pace carrying me towards the red leaved behemoths.
 
These were not here before, I think to myself as I slow to a leisurely, observant walk and wind between their trunks, golden eyes looking upwards at branches that would have taken hundreds of years to reach such heights.  Nature did not grow such things in a little over a year, which was all I had been gone.  Aithniel and I had been nearly yearlings when we had come here with mother the first time, if I remember right, and I know enough to understand that trees take a great amount of time to become as big as they are.  The elders of Nightwalk claimed the trees of that forest were almost a thousand, at least the oldest, widest trunks among the ethereal wood, and these impressive things were well over half the size of the strangely colored trees towering above me.
 
It was an impossibility that could only be answered by magic, and with the proximity to the Godly stones, I cannot help but wonder if it was the Gods themselves who made the trees, and why.  



[ OOC: Two birds!  For Aurelia to get rid of her nasty boils and runnin' them patrols.  Zandora is welcome to hop in as we're supposed to be patrolling this area together! I would write it as if he's wandered off from her if you're jumping in, Shadowmare. :3  He tends to not stick with his travel companions because oh look a sparkly thing whatisit~ ]