Sikeax

An odd expression comes off the mare, her pale eyes lingering, wondering to the back of her head exactly what she might be making that face for. She doesn't question; it only seems best not to when she isn't settled around this mare.
Her mentor wants them to go, her steps slow until she gathers an easy pace and mid-length stride, legs moving at a good trot. More than confident that Andromeda was still behind her, not a glance is given. There aren't much words to offer now, and she has none to think over that might be worth being exchanged between them. Strangers isn't the word that would describe, but she has a difficult time placing friendship to the shaded female. She's become so uneasy around others the list of friends has dwindled to low numbers, she's not as social as she once was, nor will she ever return to that point in time. The past wasn't heavy enough for her to dwendle in when it came to Andromeda.
The trees are odd, if not strange, different, and unnatural. Unnatural could be a world offered when it came from someone who had not taken trips to the Dragon's Throat, or any desert of some sort. Thin, twisted slightly, leaves opening up on top recreating the image of a spread umbrella. Pulling roots from it would be difficult, if not impossible. No trees would be shoved into the leather bag today.
Beneath, spread about the trunk, are fern-like plants, surprisingly green in colour. Desert sands and harsh climates refused to put a damper on the plant. Having studied for a moment, looking over every bit of the plant where she held her head, her attention went to Andromeda.
"I could use my horn to break through the harder earth, but it might be better after that if we use our hooves to the dig the rest out."
Ending her words to allow Andromeda to comment(if she was to feel the need to) , her head dropped, horn scraping into the earth with a thin trail of dust gathering around it, tipping it with a layer of rust that clung with vengeance in the winds. Her breath sent the remaining amount on her incision every which direction.
A single front hoof was lifted, held along the line that circled the plant. "Do you want to work on opposite ends, and work towards one another, so it's faster?" It comes down slow, grazing the ground and pushing in once she applied pressure. The heart gave way around it, climbing the height of her hoof and allowing itself to be pushed away. A few repeats had roots showing, their pale colour obvious against the desert floor. She smiled, thin, real, pleased she'd broken the earth and found what they were looking for.
"The side closest to the tree will be hard. Do you think we should tear the roots there?" She doubted they would mind, but she was no gardener. Killing the plant was the last thing they needed to do, and it would pay no good to the World's Edge once deceased.
@[Andromeda]

In winter, some voices are like coats - Mosteghanemi