The heavenly fields had always been a favourite place of his. The mountains stretched right up to the sky, right to the base of the clouds where the air was cool and thin and the wind grew stronger. Here he could rest his wings while remaining close to the sky, up against the stars and the pale face of the moon when night finally fell. Dusk was hours away now, though the sunset was worth the wait and the grazing atop the hills was worth the arduous flight. He had met many friends here, and as loneliness had sunk in to the depths of his bones, he had decided to return to the fields.

However, today he seemed to be alone. The wind spoke softly through the tall grass, pulling at his feathers and coaxing him back to the air. He let the flowers bump softly against his scarred legs, still marked from his fight many months ago. Though his feathers had returned, he had spent many months on the ground and his wings had lost the strength they had once held. It was frustrating to have his endurance cut short due to weak muscles, but for now he was happy to walk in the sunlight and soak up the warmth.

It was not long before he noticed the grass swaying off to his right side, and he turned his head to see a small filly stumbling across the meadow. She seemed weak, both of body and of soul, as if her legs were unwilling to hold her weight. He watched her for a moment, concern growing in the pit of his chest as she wandered away from him. He wondered whether he should call out to her, or if it was best to leave her alone. His decision was made as she fell to the ground.

Without a second thought he rushed over to her, hesitating as he saw her sides heaving with each breath. Was she dying? He didn’t know what to do, how to handle this sudden predicament he was faced with. He dipped his head as he neared her, emerald eyes open wide with a curiosity he had not had the energy or the cause to display for months. She was an exquisite being, tiny and dark with golden dust showering across her body like stars. She looked ahead at the field, full of flowers awoken by the spring warmth, though she seemed no more alive. She was in pain, just like him, and he wanted to help, but what could he do? He glanced around, searching for another face, another creature to lend their aid, but for the time, they were alone.

“Excuse me,” his voice was soft, cautious, worried he would frighten her if she had not already heard his clumsy footsteps. “Are you alright? Do you need help?” He lowered himself to his knees, pale wings spreading out from his sides as his torso neared the dusty earth, steadying his body. They were on the same level now, which ought to make the filly feel more comfortable though it made Murdock feel a little ridiculous. His hind legs were splayed for balance as he bent down, gaze drifting over her tense figure and fragile wings. Please, Gods, let her be alright.

"Talking"

Murdock