Tilney

Time was almost up. The orange, vibrant colours were fading from the landscape before him, retreating with their master; the sun. The lad hoped desperately to reach these heavenly fields before the moon stole his sight. Surely the fields would be the perfect sanctuary for him to rest on this cool night.
His sight though, His nightblind eyes were already failing him as the sun kissed its goodbyes over a distant ridge. He felt betrayed just as he did every evening. Soon he would be abandoned and left sightless once again until finally that fiery star returned to its daytime post the following morn.
How much further were these fields? His uphill treading seemed to be in vain, and he had been at it the better half of this day. Was he headed the right way? The brutes split hooves ached and cried to him to stop, but how could he stop here on this path? It was probably a highway for all kinds of creatures and since his arrival in Helovia he'd learnt not all creatures here were so kind.
He would press on though, fearful that twilight was soon to trap him.
Finches returned to their trees while eagles took their final glide. Far far ahead though Tilney could see the silhouette of a much bigger pair of wings; A griffin perhaps? This young stallion had only ever encountered one or two of the creatures, what an interesting sight it would be. It gave him all the more motivation to push on upwards and so his marble clefts urged on with the pass.
It wasn't even the usual suspect that throttled his sight, it was the fog this time. It had been choking his viridescent gaze ever so slightly from the moment he began his ascent but at this moment it was just as blinding as a sleeping sun. It would take a bit more then that to stop this young stallion. Pale stones dug into the earth, a deep grunt escaping his chest as he lunged up the remainder of the bluff in a striking trot. Those flaxen feet of his took striking blind steps, sometimes into nasty stones. His hooves struck until they found their way into a much softer platform; lush meadow grass.
Tilneys emerald gaze caught the very last of shadows the sun cast. He had made it, but the moons nightshift has come and that was a light too dim for his spoiled gaze. Bronze eyelids closed over verdant view, a sigh nudged from his lungs, and when those bronze eyelids were removed from his eyes he saw just as much as when they were closed. Night was well and truly here and there he stood sightless in an open meadow. He could smell others; this was not safe.
Fumbling, he began his journey across the vast grassland. The other senses he owned did what they could to alert him of what was surrounding him, but still he stumbled and faltered his way across the grass plane.
He walked for a half hour and he knew he must be going in circles. There was a risk in sleeping here tonight, but it was a risk he might have to take. He was so lost.
He had given up, and he took a careless step forwards right onto a sharp rock. Tripping and scrambling, the large stone was tossed between his fetlocks until it had him on his knees. "OOHF!".
He felt so hopeless. Picking his own bronze bodice up from the meadow floor he winced, feeling hot blood on one of his fetlocks. His perfect white socks were made temporarily imperfect by a bloodstain and a nasty gash. "ouch" he groaned, wishing he could stop everything and sob at this hopeless situation he had got himself in. All he wanted to do today was explore!
But was that the hum of wings he heard? the whoosh of a swoop? He turned his nose in the direction of an ivory doe and her griffin, but his black vision would not permit him an image. The faes breaths were close, she was not far from him at all; That was how he knew they were there.

He was so relieved to know someone else was there, but mildly embarrassed that they had probably witnessed his fumbling in circles in front of them the last half hour. He had vowed to himself when he passed from the threshold with Africa that no one would know of his ailment, this disability of his. But he was so desperate. And if he didn't tell this lass his name she could not tell others, could she? would she tell others anyway?
And so his secret to her would be his name. He had no doubt that by now she may of guessed he was blind as a bat.
"Sorry to bother" he began "but I'm very very lost and I cant see a thing, could you help me? I am only trying to find somewhere to sleep" Tilney uttered to the invisible mare.
His voice was so cheerful and upbeat, but still quite desperate. His fetlock throbbed, all four hooves pounded and his muscles ached. If this fae could help him to a safe place he would be eternally grateful.

Tilney

As soon as the tawny boy had spoken, a reply was earned. The mares voice was soft and musical, and more then a relief to hear. His features seemed to light even more and he took a jagged step in that pretty voices direction. She sounded as though she had agreed to help him, but he wouldn't give his hopes up just yet.
"Oh, thankyou" was bellowed from his snipped maw. "I was beginning to think I would have to sleep out here in the open, It's not a safe option when you're as sightless as me!" the chestnut uttered, giggling with his words slightly.
She was nearing, and he raised his hazel head. His sightless eyes still searched for this fae even though there was no hope of seeing her until the sun found its home amongst the blue daytime sky.
She informed him that she was indeed going to come closer to examine this new injury he had found himself nursing on his right legs lock. He did not back away, instead let his head fall slightly and he outstretched his right cleft. The blood had littered his perfect ivory stocking with a frightening red tint, but really the laceration was not a deep one. Unsure of how far away she had been or how close she had come until he listened for her gentle breaths again, he could feel her just next to him and a small smile fell on his black lips. Relaxing his neck he dropped his head once again but heard (and felt) the clunk of his boney headdress bumping with hers. For a moment his antlers seemed to lock with this other bony structure they had met and, startled, he pulled his crown away. Was this lady antlered like himself? He had not met another of his kind yet in this new place. "oh-" the stag was laughing awkwardly "pesky antlers" was then uttered.
The invisible doe told him that it would be wise to clean it, but it would not take long to heal. "nothing too disastrous" he mused, verdent gaze reaching around their space for her own gaze, but of course nothing could be seen.
Tilneys senses were ensnared by the beating of wings, the tossing of the soft winds around them and he lunged his head to the sky. He wished he could see that magical creature! It must of been that griffin he saw in the sky upon his ascent. Drawn from his little trance by the ladys mellow voice he drew his nose in her direction, which by now was directly beside him. Her griffin had gone to find water so they could clean his sliced leg and she had offered herself to lean on. "Oh, thankyou... once again" Tilney was so grateful, relieved. His usual overjoyed mood had returned to him. "I really do not know how to thank you, I am so relieved to have bumped in to you. I am also very sorry to have to hold you up!" the tawny lad spoke to his new companion. Tilney felt it slightly rude to have to lean on the lady, but he was so desperate and aching. He allowed his bronzey shoulder to lean on the does porcelain coat. She was smaller then him. Slowly he was piecing an image in his mind of what she looked like. Antlered or horned, a little smaller then himself.
It was not long at all until the mythical swooping sound filled his ears and wings disrupted the wind, teasing his mane. The griffin had found water.
"Yes please" Tilney spoke when asked if he would like to head to the nearest water source. "Thankyou Wynter!" He called to the creature hovering before them, but he was unsure if the animal could understand him.