Walking without a purpose, I find myself in the Secret Grove. It seems a stupid name... it's not very secret, after all. Surely everyone knows about it, and the scent of mating covers every bit of life here. Damaris walks behind me, lazily, holding a rabbit in her mouth. Silly rabbits, thinking they can hide from her. She pins her ears as she smells the sex, finding it rather offensive. 'Your kind do it, too.' I jokingly scold her, though there is little laughter in my thoughts. She huffs, missing the joke, and acts repulsed that any lady could do such a thing. Her denial amuses me, and a smile twitches at the corners of my mouth, creeping its way upon my reluctant face.

Stop soon? I'm hungry. She tries to bark at me through the meat of the rabbit carcass. I can practically feel her hunger through our bond and know she is getting annoyed at my wandering. I'm restless, though I don't know why. I turn my horned skull back to look at her, but find myself stopping short. My gaze catches a familiar body beneath a willow tree, looking quite the sight. Damaris drops the rabbit and looks over in the direction my head has turned. It's the mare who healed me after my fight with Elsa, and her companion. Kiara and Keiran. Damaris looks between the pair and her rabbit, clearly conflicted over which was more important. Her sense of right is even stronger than mine, but her desire to satisfy her rumbling tummy is a force to be reckoned with. 'Stay. I will go.' I tell her gently, encouraging her to relax and enjoy her meal while I tend to the prone mare.

As I approach I notice the lack of snow, the soft ground moist beneath my large hooves, and the sun creeping out from behind a cloud to shine down on the horse and cat. "Kiara..? What plagues you?" I wonder if she is ill... if she is, shouldn't she be able to heal herself? Maybe her magic doesn't work that way. Her panther lies protectively on top of her, in such a way that he almost looks like a blanket. I cock my head, confused. Tears have stained her cheeks, though it looks as if she might have cried herself out. I stand above her, not realizing how awkward I must be. I do not know how to tend to a tearful soul, and have no clue what I am supposed to do in this situation. I almost hope that she'll insist she's fine, so I can walk away with a guilt-free conscience. But at the same time, my instincts and power of observation tell me she isn't 'fine' and that no matter her response, it would be cowardly to walk away.

WC: 470
Tag: @[Kiara]

Rostislav

more than a drunken fool