Sikeax,

Tallsun had encouraged her to grow accustomed to sleeping during the day, tucking beneath a tree with enough leaves and branches to offer her ample shade through the heat of the day, but today, instead of sleeping, she found other things to preoccupy herself with.
Only one floats idly in the air, sweeping the hind portion of its electric body outwards to hover slightly higher. Hobgoblin cannot take his eyes off of it, spread into large sizes as a long, black tail beats against the orange sand, generating clouds of dust as he does. He’s already learned his lesson about these fish: they don’t make good meals.
His punishment from her had been being sentenced to suffer with his wounds, mouth held tightly shut because if he opens his mouth now, the burns will ignite a passion in themselves and amply the pain. He hates them just as much as Sikeax enjoys them.
It dissolves into a flurry of snaps and cracks, sparks shooting outwards into oblivion as they fade as the sky seemingly ignites before their eyes. Her name splits the tranquility of the day like a knife does butter.
Such things are never a good sign.
Her body heaves from the ground with a slow sort of bitterness, joints aching and muscles sore as she pulls herself together, mentally preparing herself for whatever waits ahead of her. Hobgoblin has already changing in favour of their coming race to whatever, standing watch with a dull sense of curiosity that she wishes could overpower the amount of panic and worry in her.
And like a gift from the fucking heavens, a bird, a bird made of damn flames was the one to alert them to make more haste.
She throws a groan in both directions of the companions, Hobgoblin who was centered on watching the bird as if it would kill him(and with good intention after their last experience with fire), and the bird who had already begun to make off in the direction they were supposed to go.
Nothing is said when he takes chase. Quite possibly the hunter in him has gotten the better of his mind, driven by instinct to chase and kill whatever dares to flee his presence with back turned.
Her following pace is one that she'll regret in the future, maybe tomorrow but not today. Adrenaline has taken no spare time in getting the healer into a full blown gallop, and by the time that she can see the beginnings of Gaucho and whoever is in need of her assistance, Hobgoblin is sending her mental images.
Nothing out of the ordinary, given that the Dragon's Throat seems to have 5 different births each season.
Cut the cord before I get there.
"Ew. No. You do."
She swears she hates him with every fiber of her being for how he acts, how she could have possibly bounded with a companion that understood the importance of her job in this herd and how sometimes if they were the first one to make it to a scene that it wouldn't hurt to aid.
The cord is still in tact when she arrives, dipping her head and severely dreading having to throw it into her mouth to cut it. Your teeth would have worked better than mine. It severs with little of a fight.
"Next time that happens, don't waste any time in breaking it. It doesn't take a healer to cut it but it'll help move things along." Gaucho seems to have a knack for arriving at births, so hopefully in the future, it'll aid him.
Her eyes draw over the children, looking at the red bag strung out on the ground, silently hoping that the cringe she feels coming along doesn't make it to her face. Hobgoblin has already thrown his head back in disgust at the sight.
Get over it.
The situation is still bits and pieces to her as she attempts to study it, trying to look for things that fit together well, but the best information that she could draw would have to be from Gaucho and the mare. The foals are moving, which is always a good sign. "What exactly happened?"
Oh, how she must look like the world's worst healer, having to stand there and ask what happened because she can't make heads or tails as of what to do next.

OOC: Please just tag when it's my turn to post so my inbox won't get heavily clogged up!
Hobgoblin is in his Serval form when Vorsa finds them but turns into his Wendigo form before arriving.
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