Murdock's concern grew as the filly lay before him on the damp soil, unmoving except for gentle shudders of her body with each trembling breath. He looked over her again and again, growing more frantic to find a cause for her pain. Finally, her body tensed as she lifted her head, and he leaned back to give her room. She sniffed softly, but no words left her lips in response to his questions. It seemed for a moment as if she were deaf, perhaps unable to hear him, until at last her head dipped in a timid nod. He remained close to her, bent over awkwardly on his long legs so as to share her perspective of the world.

Another voice drew his attention and he turned toward the source of the sound. A pale grey mare approached them, her face friendly and her posture unthreatening. Perhaps she would know what to do. Perhaps she could offer some help and care that Murdock was still far too childlike himself to provide. "Hello," he called back, unfolding his long legs from beneath his chest and rising upright again. He nodded in response to her question, "Yes, I am fine, but," he trailed off as his gaze drifted back to the filly. Her small head nodded once more in agreement, though he doubted the integrity of her claim.

Suddenly, the filly scrambled back to her feet. She seemed bigger now that she stood beside him, her thin legs seeming awkwardly long for her slender body. Her wings were small, far too small to carry her weight and it would be quite some time before they would come of use for her. He remembered his frustration at that age, beating his small wings as hard as he could though they never managed to lift him off the ground. Soon enough, though, she would join the others of her kin in the sky. If nothing else, she had the joy of flight to look forward to.

While his mind was on that subject, he drew his attention back to the stranger who had joined them. She also carried wings, or, a wing. Murdock drew his gaze over the scarred, torn flesh where a wing had once been. A few feathers still clung to her flesh, though they were small and downy like thick fur. He could not imagine losing one or both of his wings along with his ability to fly. After October had attacked him, tearing the majority of his feathers out and leaving him grounded for months, he could not imagine what it would be like to permanently lose the privilege of flight.

Respectfully, he directed his attention away from the mare's shoulder and back to the filly, who had finally found her voice. "I am Murdock, former General of the Foothills," he looked to the newcomer next for her name, though he could already tell where she was from. The scent of sand clung to her coat and he immediately knew she could be regarded as a friend. Neither of the names Faeanne mentioned to them were familiar to him, though with the help of the other mare, surely they could get her home. "Can you tell us where your parents are from? Perhaps we can help you find them."

"Talking"

Murdock