Standing at the filly’s side allows the blue mare to ground herself amidst the chaos that thrashes around them, the young one’s presence as comforting and endearing as anything could be at a time like this. Her cries of inspiration even bring a familiar smile to her dark lips, nostrils curling as she exhales heavily in a comforting breath, her tail curving out behind her (not unlike a cat’s, standing at attention). Unfortunately, even Galiel’s pure, candid encouragement is not enough to melt the hate and chaos completely away, and she is ever aware of the pain that clouds the humid jungle before them.

White eyes watch the battlefield—the ghastly scenes that unfold make her cringe, igniting her muscles with the instinct to run, to flee and spare herself of this violence, but her healing heart is far too strong to abandon them. Her gaze is wide and intense in her earnest, dainty ears dancing with the sounds of battle. It isn’t long before a sudden snapping of movement seizes her attention, her head shifting to the side and her heart leaping into her throat when she sees the Time Mender collapse. “ENNA!” Tiamat cries for her friend, her voice shadowed by horror.

Looking back to the winged filly, the ocean mare presses her muzzle to her forehead, breathing deeply. “I’ll be back,” it is a whispering promise, a hope that the young one will keep herself safe while duties call her away, before she turns in a twirl of hair and shells. Cloven hooves move quickly through the undergrowth, her gaze skirting between the battlefield and her friend. By the time she reaches the brown mare, there are already two stallions guarding her—her Lord Deimos, and a dappled stranger she doesn’t recognize. “Thank you so much,” she casts a heartening smile to them both, her appreciation honest and sincere for their protection.

“Enna,” Tiamat turns her attention to the fallen Mender. Looking her over, the blue mare notices her bruised side and wounded head, which has begun to bleed. Arching her neck, Tiamat picks through the herbs and sprigs weaved into her hair, first snatching a shoot of yarrow. Grinding the small flowers into a powder with her hoof and making a paste, she applies the salve to Enna’s injuries, primarily her head. Satisfied that infection will not set in, she grasps a mixture of valerian and comfrey root next, meant to help ease the pain, diminish swelling, and quicken the healing process. Tiamat does not have restorative magic as others do, but she works quickly and efficiently, doing her utmost best in mending her dear friend and herd mate.

Stepping back, the ocean mare shifts her attention to the stallions. “She just needs to wake now,” a brief, worrying glance is cast again to the brown mare, but her gaze doesn’t linger for long—no need to make herself more anxious in fretting. Her attention almost reluctantly returns to the battlegrounds, and it is with a shuddering gasp of horror that she sees the winged filly. “Galiel—NO!” She takes a step closer, the weight of her body leaning forward, white eyes wide with fear as she watches the pale filly throw herself recklessly into the fray.

And at last I see the light.