Addiction.

My blood runs cold. I freeze, a blackened statue, and my eyes seem to glaze over as I contemplate all the repercussions of the girl's words. Addiction. I am not a foul-mouthed man by design, but a thousand 'oh shits' threaten to burst out of my lips. I have fortunately never suffered from an addiction myself, but I know how it can happen. The humans would often coyly talk of their own addictive personalities, whether it be to drugs, alcohol, money, the opposite sex. Until I began to study herbology properly, I never knew that horses can grow reliant upon things, too. Sometimes it's innocent enough, an over-reliance on a painkilling herb to numb the agony of an old war wound, and if it's not dangerous then I see no problem with it.

But the flower the filly describes...if it's what I think it is, then it is very bad news indeed. But the sight of my niece averting her gaze, as though she expects me to flip on her, to rage and shout and scream...it makes my insides ache. "Oh, Erthë, you needn't have worried about my reaction. Did you think I would be angry at you?" My gaze is sympathetic as I look at her, and I move closer to try and pull her to my side, to lend comfort with my warmth and presence. "I wouldn't be angry if you came to me saying you had colic or flu, my dear, so I couldn't be angry at you for this." It is an illness, like colic or flu, but it is not an illness I have encountered very often or know how to solve.

I rack my brains, and my mental search has never been so important. Erthë needs me, and I cannot let her down. "You're so brave for coming to me with this, little one. You've already won half the battle, because you've acknowledged that you have a problem and you actually want to fix it." If she was oblivious to her addiction, if she raged against the very notion of it, then it would be far, far harder to cure it. The fact she knows of it, and wants to fix it, means she will hopefully be open to ideas. Of course, I have never tried to help any of the addicts I've met, so it's the blind leading the blind. All I have is my common sense, and my extensive knowledge of herbs - but whether they'll be enough remains to be seen. I will do my damndest to make sure they are.

"It won't be easy to cure you of this, Erthë. It'll be a long and painful road, but I know you're strong enough to cope. Do you trust me?" Before I make any suggestions, I need to know that she is utterly and completely willing to work with me, no matter how hard it gets. It is a heavy weight for shoulders so young, and again I find myself wondering how one of her age can have suffered such damned bad luck in her short life.

It is at this moment that another arrives - the familiar form of Sikeax and her demonic companion. I smile at my fellow healer, nodding my haltered head, even though the smile is somewhat forced from my conversation with the white filly. "Ah, Sikeax! This is Erthë, my niece." As she nears, I see the way she's carrying herself - I see the wound on her neck, and I begin to fret. When she asks me to cure the wound, I immediately nod. "What happened to you? Of course I'll heal you. Here, stay still." I move closer, summoning the magic that bubbles in my soul. I force aside my distractions, thoughts of my niece and how I'm going to help her, to concentrate fully on healing my herdmate. My jaws open and fire leaves them - I direct the torrent towards the wound, being sure to coat it fully in flames. The flames do not burn, scorch or hurt...they heal, and despite the drain on my energy I keep going until I see the skin begin to knit together.