What had been the screams of the great cat and the warriors who fought her ease now into the moans of the dying, and the sound of those who weep over their fallen figures. It is all a sight of such utter horror, even with the flames extinguished, that for a good while, Dragomir could only shake and look about him, seeking the faces that were known to him to assure they were not among those who lay in pools of their own blood, and watchful of the somber God who surveys the aftermath of the struggle against the Tigress.

His attentions become wholly the Earth’s as the God makes the massive figure of the cat seem to wreath itself in a strange light, dissipating into nothingness, relinquishing the figures of those who had been crushed beneath her bulk.

The stallion looks up with his mouth low and blue eyes wide to the God of the Earth, all the pain of the fire which has licked upon his fetlocks forgotten in the simple bliss that he, of all those who had gathered in this place, has been chosen worthy of such a gift; without a word, he falls to a single knee in praise, caring not what others gathered about think of his pious behavior.

While knelt there in the blood and ash stained island earth, his mind reels. He does not understand – there were others who fought far more valiantly than he, and those who had even healed and helped. All he’d done was stand alongside his friend in a time of great struggle… and such a thought eases the tightening of his chest, the doubt that he deserves such a token from a Goddess, and he rises again to all fours.

No thoughts as to how awful it is to piece out a being of immense power such as the Earth does now cross his mind, and if they did, the man would answer that it was more wasteful to let the great figure of the cat rot away in the wilderness than to use her remains for a noble cause. In a way, he thinks, the Goddess might live on in each of the totems and trinkets given the gathered mortals – and, he is sure, the Earth thinks much the same.

This is the end, says the God, a pulse radiating outwards from him that makes those who hacked, wheezed, and blurrily meandered suddenly seem more vibrant than they had before, the painted stallions own few remaining boils (earned from a certain black and gold mare not far from him, and mostly healed by a kind stranger known as Raeden) most instantaneously healing – though whatever joy is earned from it by those around him, it seems quickly lost on the wounded.

Looking over to Resplendence as the God concludes his words, the stallion glances over at the small white filly that she had helped heal, and he had helped defend, before he again finds his eyes on his rosy friend.

"Will you be helping with the others?" he asks, lowering his muzzle to grab the skull from before his hooves, his teeth clacking on the funny feeling bone (it hums with a magic potent and strong), "I ‘an ‘elph flein’ herbphs."

[ OOC: Or, “I can help find herbs.” xD He has this terrible habit of talking with his mouth full it seems.
^^ Will remain to help Resplendence heal those who need it. ]

Dragomir