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Tor's exhale colored gray as it drifted upwards. Dark brown eyes closed in awful, deep remorse. She just requested Mauja to tell a unicorn, who had been abused in early years, that she was an idiot. Regret pained the tobiano. It explained much of... well. Everything. An abusive father. The femme could not wrestle with the foreign thought in her mind; all Tor's father had been was a caring sire, one who gifted her with everything that made Tor as she was now. Of course, Tor's dam had played her hand strongly as well. But still.
Mauja's cracked words muttered a low curse after Ophelia's voice quieted. Interesting. So it was true- Ophelia was a son of Paladin the Valiant. The King, no, the stallion, mumbled something about an agreement of sorts. Despite Tor's kindness and sorrow for this fallen King, she couldn't help but feel a spark of annoyance. Offering to help him, and nothing more than a few muttered, anger-laden words. Tor. He is in serious pain. Stop complaining about this-and-that. A firm reprimand. The shaman had always said to ignore the protests of the injured- they were often driven with pain and pride.
So she would.
"Hold still." Tor ordered firmly, taking his measly agreement in stride. Taking a couple of steps closer, she eyed the wounds. It was an awful mess, filled with charred flesh, blackened skin, soot around the peeling edges. The healer took in ten deep breaths, closing her eyes and focusing intently. There was a wall within her head, the barrier to healing. She imagined a beautiful crystal door, twining gold vines curving down the insides, willing it to appear in the solid white block. Slowly it shimmered to life, and the gates swung outwards. A flood of power crashed through her, jerking every sinew, every atom into life. Quickly, before it would fade, Tor focused the energy to Mauja's wound. It flipped through in fast-forward, the wound fading quickly, sealing up, until only a remainder of pink flesh covered what was once a festering injury.
The draft stumbled, nearly crashing into the wall. Knees bending under her, she slipped, crashing down onto her side, breathing labored. The healing process had been intense, and the energy had been completely sucked out of her. Snow frosted every feather, chilled her. Breathing rapidly, the mare fought to pull herself together, but she allowed herself to remain lying down. Hopefully the King would not suddenly attack her.
"talk talk talk"
move move move
think think think
Word Count: ???
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