Tick. Tick. Tock...Tick…..Tick……..

The wind and cold were sealing her in like an ice walled prison. Footsteps and shouts like muffled and cold, fell dull on her ears. She did not need to hear them. Creatures such as she have more senses than ours. A faint flick in that creature breast sparks. Friend. Who calls her friend? This war of winter and survival, in a land of cold and steel who calls her friend?

She will guide you. She will help you? Why was the last time others had lent a shoulder? Their roles were usually reversed. The curious child who wandered into the mountains lead home. The heart broken fighter, tired and battered given strength. She gave aid. But never had she received it. Who was this who called her friend and offered her a hand? A warm body comes to rest by her thick ragged coat. It was numb to the touch, but she feels it in other ways. A white mist, at contact, curls around her chest. While the mare shouts will she see what common miracle her care is causing? It draws to a point, and lays itself like a binding on a laceration about her chest.

Tick…..Tock………….

Who calls themselves helpless, when they give so much?

Breath comes easier, but still her chest is torn. Her grey eyes slowly lift awake. Though limp and deadened to touch she see the girl struggle with her weight. Then she collapses from the effort, murmuring, and calling ghosts as she lays her head upon the great creature. Such a strange girl to give this creature help. So strange to receive it. But it could not in the end change fate.

Another creature moves forward, and the grey eyes listlessly find her brown form. Had she seen this mare on the mountain sides before? Her voice, like a song is felt in the creature’s chest, and breaks through the muffled quiet of the creature’s world. Ah yes, that song. It was so much like those she sang to down trodden heroes. Now she too is turning to help the fallen mythology. Like a rough bandage the magic of the horses, and their Gods rubbed against her paws. For the first time the creature shifts, her sore pads pulling from the roughness. It was not as smooth and soothing as the magic of her kind.

It was another kindness, another soul aiding one so rarely thought of, and so another white mist drew from her ticking locket and lay upon her breast, washing away in a warm touch the wound there.

Now the grey eyes open more consciously. The great head, still weighted and heavy lifts to see a fire spark further, and another come to stand near by. She comes now too, to tiger’s side, and her warm breath, washes over the creature coat. Had the tigress ever known another’s touch? Another’s gracious hand? Who were these creatures to aid her. She pitied to poor creatures for their inability to see, but all the same, another white whisp soothed upon her chest.

Tick………………Tick……………………..

Get up they say, they cry. Coldness still grips her mortal body. Healed physically was a fine thing to do. But those were not the wounds she would see her fate sealed by. Sitting up slowly she looks to them. Though cold like a fog has wrapped her she feels something through its thick grip. Why? Why did they help her? For so long she had helped them, guided them. Her nights were filled watching over their slumbers, and days let them glimpse if luck needed at her form. Never had any fallen upon themselves to ask what she needed. The strange actions puzzled her. She wanted to know. To know one last thing.

Slowly thick legs gathered under her and shaking, and swaying she stands, and stumbles towards the creature’s fire. Her wounds healed, and body eased, they might her no longer to look injured only old. Her movements like creaking time, are slow and jolted, while her coat is still ragged and body worn. Or perhaps, they might think, that is nothing but the cold. She comes to the fires edge, collapsing in its ring of heat.

For a moment she did not move. Her entire being seeming deadened again. Yet there was yet one thing left, she wanted to know. Her grey eyes find the other, and with a blank worn face her question, a whisper and groan, flows out. “Why do you help me?” She looks slowly to each one. So long a life had she lived. Never needing a soul, yet when fate made her wounded they came. They aided whole heartedly. Why? What was in the breast of those she had watched so long that she had missed? What made their clocks tick.

Tock…………………………………Tick……………………………………..




OOC :: @[Lena] @[Enna] @[Tiamat] @[Tilney] and Open to any and all =]You have 72 hours. Also apologies for the incredibly long post.
"Speech"