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07-30-2014, 08:24 PM
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The voice, when it comes, is faded indigo, and I know that I am needed. Oh, she is not in mortal danger, but even so - my services have been quite popular lately, and I am not one to leave my herdmates in pain for long. After all, we are supposed to be family, aren't we? And so I leave the familiar shade of my little copse of trees and amble toward the direction of the voice, following the last tint of her colour until my eyes fall upon the fallen form of Agrona. Though we are not close, we have met before, which is more than I can say for many of the inhabitants of the Hidden Falls, these days. "You're getting dirt in your wounds," I observe amiably as I approach, switching my tail casually to ward off the flies. This late in the summer, they are swarming, and I start to wonder how long it will take before they attempt to feast on the only deep laceration on the mare's body. She has a few other bumps, but I can see from my initial examination that none of her wounds are particularly pressing. "But I assume you are lying down for a reason, hmm?" My words are not spiteful or distasteful; I feel nothing but an almost motherly, nurturing need to assist her. If anything, there is something warm and amused to my tone, indicating my present state of mind. "Who were you fighting, anyway?" It couldn't have been very serious, not with such minor injuries. She was probably practicing, preparing for violence that I very much hope will not find us here, tucked away behind the waterfalls. I am not much for war, much to my deceased father's dismay. "Talk talk talk." |
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