O N N I
back then our bones wouldn't break, always fighting to stay awake.

Leaning up against a tree, the shaman of the Throat, robbed of her healing power in the absence of the Sun, is injured from her recent jaunt north. Long had it been since her hooves met with such ferocity of battle, and the giant lava salamander had been far to difficult of a target for her to surmount. The painted girl had been soaring about its head with the giant snapped it around too quickly for her to dodge, finding herself knocked to the ground, painfully against her chocolate wing, skull cracking against the grassy floor and lights gone out.

At some point after the fight, Onni had been roused by a familiar face and brought home. However, the soreness of her left wing persisted. Likely, the bones were bruised or even possibly fractured. Her legs were still battered and and scrapped, burned from the lava which spewed from its neck on her cannons. She was injured but alive.

Tired from the constant throb of the burns on her legs, Onni has taken to sleeping the majority of the day away near to the Oasis. Her head held down, blonde locks gently caressing her face, the shaman is at peace. It is not the mare who hears the call of her name, but her small bird much more apt to the sounds of the world. Lyhty chirps in alarm, hearing the primordial slaughter of her name's pronounciation and remembering immediately who such masculine tones belong to - Gaucho. Onni, you are being called.

Being roused by the soft words of her companion, the healer lifts her head, her face turning outward toward the desert. Her sky eyes seek out the figure that Lyhty presents to her - large and bay, a rack of antlers and a bone protruding from his nose. Gaucho was an excellent warrior, the shaman knew, but today she learned that he was rather horrible about blending in. His massive form was seen even from a few hundred paces away, large and gawking. His antlers gleamed in the light of the massive flames, a shadow cast by his figure.

Turning on sore limbs, the painted girl makes her way toward the warrior, limping as she goes. Lyhty soars after, fluttering little wings caressing the air and crimson eyes watching his bonded carefully. Onni comes to stand in front of the massive boulder of a stallion, a smile upon her pale face. "Gaucho," her voice quiet but strong. "Is there something you needed?"

O N N I
back then our bones wouldn't break, always fighting to stay awake.

As the painted girl approaches, the Gaucho's expression is rather unreadable. Strange, considering he was usually not good with subtlety. The healer is not herself today, though, but the hours have rest keep the tiredness her body feels at bay. The drain on her energy is heavy, the stress of the burns felt, but not really when she had work to attend to. Gaucho's call had lifted her spirits, Onni reminded that while she may not be in the shape for battle, she was still useful to the herd she loved. Training would replace the technique all but forgotten. In the mean time, she would still be sought for her ability to heal. Even in the absence of the sun, Onni's limited knowledge of herbs probably surpassed any in the herds'. Now, perhaps more than ever, she was needed.

As the tobiano comes to a halt, the massive warrior steps almost uncomfortably close, the healer shifting her weight back toward her haunches for a moment before settling again. Above, in the air, Lyhty lets out a nattering chirp of disapproval, and Onni looks up with a glinting smile at the small bird. "Shh, Lyhty, it's alright."

When sky eyes make their way back toward the bulk of Gaucho, she finds his crown tilted downward, the rack of antlers being overtaken by the locks of black mane. Onni was uncertain if the warrior showed respect for much of anyone, aside from probably Kri and Midas. As far as the painted lady knew, she had done little to earn it. Healing was her occupation, but even before she had mended him for the first time, the stallion had given her silent authority, respecting her words more than even Sohalia, who the shaman thought his mate now.

As he spoke, his darker eyes met with hers, and the pale-faced mare waited for a few moments to see if he would explain more. "What for?" Her eyes widen slightly in confusion, though she attempts to mask it, and then tilts her head to look at his figure. "Are you injured?" she asks, her voice open and honest, before trailing her eyes back toward his face.

O N N I
back then our bones wouldn't break, always fighting to stay awake.

The snake hisses, and the bird chirps irritatedly in response. The tiny chest puffs out visciously as the small songbird flits around her head, settling finally with a huff of annoyance on her shoulder. Meanwhile, Onni smiles nervously at the irescible snake. The shaman could not know but highly suspected the reptile to be poisonous. Without the sunlight, there would be no way for the healer to save herself from certain death. Chiding the bird with an inward nudge, the pale eyes return to the bay stallion, who seemed to have gotten closer somehow.

That not important. The shaman appears somewhat surprised; why would someone call for her if not because of injury?
The painted mare watches patiently and with amusement as the normally brusque and distant stallion puts on a theatrical version of looking around. If Gaucho was anything, it would certainly not be stealthy. After the warrior deems them safe or alone or whatever he was deeming them, his head comes closer to her. Nervous by the sudden advancement of the snake, Lyhty hops into the air and chitters out of what he thought her range, glaring downward.

Onni simply remains still, uncomfortable from the closeness but already realizing that Gaucho would not pick up on the silent cues. Sun-God give Gaucho task. A bright smile forms on the shaman's lips, thinking of the Sun God and how he had smiled on her friend. Was Gaucho a friend? The tobiano considered him such, but it likely was just on her part. Glancing up at the taller steed as his face pulls away, she notices how flustered and young her features appear.

Preach? The girl nods, finally understanding. It makes her proud to know that she was known for her devotion to the sun, but also sad in his absence. "I will help you gladly, Gaucho," she says, offering forth a smile. "What do I need to do?"

O N N I
back then our bones wouldn't break, always fighting to stay awake.

All of the time Onni spent with Gaucho, she began to feel something different than the brutish warrior she had once surmised him to be. With the childlike glint of his stormy blue eyes, he seems innocent and sweet. The same innocence often lies within the sky eyes of the shaman, an interesting similarity among the two. The healer assumed that the glimmer spoke of a true and pure heart, one that she could easily trust and confide in.

Having heard about his quest from the Sun God, Onni now knew it to also be the deity's smile upon his soul as well.

As he spoke, the painted girl listens intently. The choppy words left much to be explained, but the good-natured mare wished not to stress him. Instead, she nods quietly, retreating into her mind to piece together what is desired from her. Looking up toward the great pyre dancing in the Endless Night, she smiles. Finally, with the holy sunfire reflecting in her pale face, the healer understands. Lyhty takes to singing a soft melody, twirling up in the night sky and away from the snake and his bonded. The songbird keeps a careful eye on the group, though, not wanting Onni to be left alone as she bared her beliefs to the warrior and future Sultan.

"You must speak from the heart," the mare speaks slow and gestures to Gaucho's chest for better clarification. "Openly and honestly." Smiling at him, as if encouraging, allowing a pause for understanding. "If you do not know the glory of the Sun Lord, it will be difficult to teach others."

"What do you know of him that can be shared?"

O N N I
back then our bones wouldn't break, always fighting to stay awake.

Fascinatingly, the large brute takes to a thoughtful expression. Onni had never seen such determined concentration on the face of the warrior. While the shaman had never once thought of Gaucho as a stupid being, he certainly seemed more simple than most. One who was concerned with following orders and thinking later. Now, to see him so involved in the thought of something so existential as a deity was surprising. Watching the expression of his stormy blue eyes shift in the gleaming light of the pyre, Onni smiles patiently.

An earnest heart, one so hard working and loyal, beats in the chest of her comrade. For a moment, the healer is reminded of her mother's vision of this entire herd being kin in spirit rather than blood. Maybe, just maybe, the Resolute had not been full of hopes and hot air when she had told the painted girl that vision. Perhaps it was the land under the watchful gaze of the Golden God who attracted such hearts, or the fierceness of her own mother.
Onni would find out soon.

Like a child giving up hope, the bay turns back toward her, head downward. Lyhty lets out a small chuckling sound of a chirp, settling back down in the feathers of his bonded. The slowly, decisive words of the stallion bring another alighted smile to the shaman's face, tugging at her recent wounds painlessly in her delight. Gaucho, definitely, understood more than he gave himself credit for. The brush of feathers on her chest, the flutter of her heart beneath it, the call of life and warmth.

"Light gives life," Onni says finally, after he finishes. "That is a great observation."

Pointing her feather toward Gaucho's chest, Onni purposefully repeats the word he needs, speaking slowly and carefully as always when communicating with the soldier. "Heart. Even in the dark, your heart carries the warmth of the sun." The shaman remembers now, during the longest night of her life, why she follows the sun.