The sky is a saturated shade of blue, a fresh clean blanket laid out over the night, woven tight and clean, with stitching of pale gold around the sun. On this sheet are designs, extravagantly done, towering clouds, vast and wide, glistening in the shimmering golden sunlight. Without wind, there is nothing to disrupt the overwhelming, towering pillars from slowly accumulating, nothing to smooth down the wild, shaggy tops or whip them into better, cleaner form, so they remain sprawling and glittering.
Below this fine horizon, there is a horse, of pale alabaster and fresh clean marble, tall and ever so slightly plump, but without the rounded, hefty belly of a mare in foal. Not yet, not for now- very little time had passed since she had met with Destrier in the World's Edge, and so she remained as streamlined as she had ever been. Of course, Tor's coat stayed slightly bedraggled and scruffy around the edges, to say the least, as with always in the melting of snow and the beginning of warm summer.
She is watching the unsightly blemish on the horizon over the simmering heat of Helovia's Heart, an ugly black scar that curls and folds in turmoil, flaring up and down, becoming not only horses but tigers and even, strangely, the color pink. Tor stirs, uneasy, as she watches, flicks her tail back and forth, debating on the wisdom of coming closer and what, exactly, the cackling black cloud was, because it was definitely not a natural aspect of the weather.
Finally, it seems to die. It dissipates in a wind that comes from nowhere, a wind that fades away almost immediately.
The mare recognizes the blood stallion, the stallion she had last seen weighed down by antlers and with a nose of soft red tissue that had appeared to be infected of some sort. Instantly her mind wages war. Surely this horse, cruel and rude as he had been to them, deserved this creature gifted to it? But he had been... so grumpy. No. A child could not be raised like this, regardless if this stallion deserved it. There is the fierce sensation of guilt as the mare comes trotting towards him, ready to stop the unicorn.
"Sir, I'm afraid you can't have that egg. I will fight you if I must, but... I'm sorry, I can't imagine you raising it the way it should." Tor said quietly, politely, voice smooth and filled with gentle pleading. The draft did not know he had sired the Moon God's son, nor that he fiercely loved Kou, or that he was paternal in any nature.
It was the Mirage dilemma all over again. Save the child and cause harm to the owner, or leave the child to what could only be pain and not cause harm. Which was the right choice? Even if the egg wasn't kitsune, or dragon, or any companion she may seek on her own, the poor thing deserved a bonded companion who would care for it.
Tor intends to take the hellhound egg and nurture it as she believes it should be done. Regular four posts and closing defense. Good luck!
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healer's dilemma [d'art challenge]
