So I hunt for a magical herb that will cure my ills, as well as the ills of the other inflicted Helovians. As fights go, the one against the wolf was even worse than usual. I got infected with boils, strained my back legs, got stung on the ass by a bear made of lightning, and then suddenly sprouted this hateful tar-disease. It was not a good day. Still, I fear there is more to come, so I need to keep my supplies high.

I wave my tail against my flanks to get rid of flies, scooping up herbs and placing them flat on a nearby rock. When I've got enough, I'll tuck them into my halter. Do you know how hard it is to tuck something into an item on your face when you lack fingers? I have to place the herbs I want on a flat rock, then rub my face against it until they wedge themselves between the worn leather and my coarse skin. I wish I had a bag of some sort. If horses can have magic, why not bags? I'm jerked from my herb gathering frenzy and my bag-related musings by a very familiar voice, one that makes my ears prick and my whole body turn to see the source.

Right now, the little white filly is the only creature who can bring a smile to my face despite my woes. I beam down at her as she comes closer, but my grin slips slightly as I see that she, too, is plagued with black goo from her facial orifices. It looks like this disease is not just mine, then. I wonder if she can see new colours, like I can, or if her symptoms manifest differently. I confess I am no expert with magical diseases. "Erthë," I greet, gently extending my muzzle to try and softly blow into her nose in greeting, hoping I don't spray her with black snot. "How are you?" Heavens, she is such a lovely little thing. Already she knows battle, which is a hard burden to bear for one of her age, but she has handled it well. I wonder briefly where her mother is, and look to the skies to see if she's circling high above, watching down on her daughter. I may not be her blood-uncle, but I would do anything for her. Hearing what she calls me, and seeing the way she bounds over to me, makes my heart swell with such affection I feel like it may just explode.

She asks me what I'm doing, and I puff myself up slightly in preparation to talk healing with her. Perhaps, if I interest her in herbs at this tender age, she will choose to walk the path of the healer rather than the warrior when she is fully-grown. "I'm gathering herbs, little one. With everything that's happened recently, it's important that I keep well-stocked. I'm also hoping to stumble upon something that will help get rid of this damnable disease we both seem to have." I frown and look down at my meagre pile of herbs. For open wounds and infection, they're fine, but this disease feels like neither of those. I'm completely stumped on what the cure could be - but I hope it doesn't involve me getting a burnt backside like the boil cure seemed to.