He was beside himself, his entire bodice quaking with fear of what he could lose. But she was alive, he could hear it, feel it, her heart still thrummed within her breast. He was devastated at the amount of damage her delicate body would have endured, such a fall was not likely to be survived, but she did have the two Pegasus males buffeting her fall. Absently Azzuen looked to the gelding, a fleeting lance, panic trying to blind his usually clear and sound mind, but he fought it. The fog of confusion would be pushed back, he had to focus now. He shook his crown, and felt as if his brain was rattling about in there, so crumbled was his resolve.

He snorted, and with the expulsion of air, attempted to dispel the wayward thoughts of distraction as well. If this were any other member, aside from his daughter, he would be much cooler, and in control. He had to control himself now – for her. He saw her responding to him, leaning his crown in close to her, he held her touch and tried some more to appear as nothing more than a pillar of strength to her. He could see the love, the devotion in her eyes, the will to live – but it was obscured, and he could only imagine the all-consuming pain she must be in. He could fix that, he realised with a start, and swiftly he gathered his senses and allowed his magic to flow through her, to nullify all the nerves that would feel pain, so that instead she would only feel a pressure where the wounds were, her senses still able to identify the damage wrought but not feel the sharp, stabbing pain that would tear her to pieces. Yes, that much, he could do.

Onni arrived, and without hesitation called upon the God of these boiling lands to summon forth the powers of healing. Azzuen dutifully stepped back now, wings folded against his sweaty sides, his breathing still quickened, but slowing, and deeper. No heed was paid to the slight aches he might be feeling, no attention given to the fact that his knee was swelling up, nor that his rump ached with the old memories of a tree slashing across it; no, these things needn’t take up the time and effort of Onni, the natural process of healing would restore them to rights.

Once again, rough glance was thrown at Jaydan, possibly a bit sharper than the first, blurred one, this one containing an accusing question, edged with a bristle of protectiveness. What was the gelding doing anyway? Falling from the sky with little control was not a training exercise he knew, certainly diving or twisting one’s body in a controlled manner was familiar to him, but to give up, and allow the rising ground to pound one’s body into pulp? He was not coherent enough to join the dots together – his own mother had committed the very sin Jaydan had tried to do when she lost her mate, only she chose a different method.

Given time, he maybe would see things differently. For now, the blame was upon the blue one.