Chico was healed, of course--a dislocated rib won’t do much except give you a gnarly bruise, and he was a tough one anyway, so he only squealed in his sleep like, twice before that was gone, too. But even after that, both our chests still ached, and we ain’t have to talk about why.

Maybe it was a mark of how much older and more mature I was that Nyx’s death didn’t break me, even though it felt like it should. And I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing either, for me to be this...this distant about her being gone. Not like I wasn’t mourning her at all or anything--but back in the day (y’all already know) I’d’ve raged and cried and screamed and run run run run run run run the fUCK away from this place, from another one, another failure, another deat at my hands that I could’ve stopped.

(but this time I tried--)

(--I hadn’t run, I’d tried, and I wasn‘t strong enough--)

Running away from this herd wasn’t gonna help no one, though; who would I have been, abandoning this place when I knew good and hell well that they were barely limping along for protection? It was a distinction I’d learned, a way to help...cope...with the hurt. But it still hurt--and more than ever, I felt the full weight of my position on my shoulders. I ain’t have no reference point no more, a history to help me keep afloat--it was all me now.

Eh, whatever.

Someone was at the gate, and even though they’d already been intercepted by a...person (a warrior? My warrior?  I wasn’t sure--) duty still propelled me forward. It felt weird that Chico hadn’t been the one to alert me this time; he was confined to my back, dammit, even though the bruise and the pain was mostly gone. I had to be sure. And he was lazy enough to submit to it.

The horses I met there weren’t horses I recognized. Well...okay, I take that back. I recognized one of them (from somewhere), but it caught me off guard that she had acted in the stead of a warrior; I guessed that someone had taken my word at the meeting and actually volunteered for patrol. The dudebro that accompanied her was totally unfamiliar, but I already knew that the Foothills the Hidden Falls weren’t a herd anymore, so I was already braced for new arrivals. “‘Sup,” I said, while Chico flashed a toothy grin at the magic chickens squawkin’ around without actually moving from his fatty throne. I ran an eye over the new guy. “What’s the story here?”