Look to love, you may dream—hope is home, and the heart is free.

A shallow trail of hoof prints marks the path of the ocean mare; from her little cave she had wandered, too excited to rest just yet. Having reached the frosty borders of the unfreezing lake, she had watched the sunset as it painted vibrant colors across the sky, her mother giving a final, glorious farewell before releasing the stage to her sister stars. It is here where she stands alone now, relaxing at the snowy banks with her bright eyes turned upwards. The mare’s gaze reflects her sisters’ glistening light, and she feels as though she can hear them—by the cool breeze that whistles gently through the crevices in her horn, by the calm sighing of the darkness, and by the brilliant lights that play in the water’s reflection—she can hear them.

Peacefully, she breathes with nature, the beat of her heart echoing the frozen earth beneath her hooves. Tiamat shivers once from the autumn chill, her satin coat not quite acclimated to mountain climates, but she pays it no mind. She is home—at last, she is home. While the merry adventures of her heart might call her across all the valleys and ranges of Helovia, the blue mare knows that no place will accept her as this one has, will not ignite in her soul a warmth and peace that chases away any physical cold. She is home.

Perhaps she would have spent all night like this—enjoying the feel of the Basin, her mind swathed in the sweet comforts of belonging—but fate has other plans for these late hours. Dainty ears rotate to cup the muffled sounds of someone approaching, and Tiamat glances around. The young dark cerndyr is not difficult to spy against the pristine backdrop of snow, immediately recognizable by the peculiar white eye that rests on his brow. “Hello, Lochan,” the mare smiles brightly, angling to face the new arrival, “where is Ashamin?”

White eyes look for the painted stallion, fear suddenly pricking in her heart when he cannot be found. From what little information she knows about bonded companions, they don’t usually spend much time apart, unless it is necessary—likely an emergency. This is the possibility that springs first into the ocean mare’s mind. Perhaps she is a little bit paranoid when it comes to her dear painted friend, but she almost lost him once, and it had destroyed her—she couldn’t bear to lose him again. So she follows Lochan without question, trying to ignore the sudden pounding in her ears, the beating in her chest, focusing instead on the path of the shadowy cerndyr.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take them long to reach their destination—but while her heart sings when she sees Ashamin standing, it plummets again when she notices the bloody mess of his company. The golden mare is familiar, but Tiamat can’t recall her name. Managing a sincere smile for them both, the ocean mare nods to her friend, but her healer’s heart calls her quickly to the gilded mare. “My name is Tiamat, I’m a healer,” her smile wilts to something more tender, their unfamiliarity with each other only a trivial detail to the blue mare, her geniality extending to everyone.

“You two seem to have had quite the tussle,” she chuckles gently, casting a short, teasing glance to Ashamin. Tiamat doesn’t understand fighting, or sparring, or battle—or really anything to do with violence. It is a hateful and merciless thing, but knowing that she can’t very well stop them, she intends to do all she can to patch up the unlucky ones.

Turning to the string of herbs entwined in her hair, she first picks out a sprig of clove, mashing it under her hoof before applying it gently to the mare’s punctured chest. “This will help numb the pain,” the blue mare explains, working quickly before turning to grasp more herbs. She finds yarrow, which will help the clotting, and all-heal, which will prevent infection. Making a salve of the two, she applies it again to the wound, before snatching a final sprig of yarrow and handing it to the golden mare. “Eat this; it’s bitter, but it will help slow the bleeding. And here—” Tiamat picks out a handful of Echinacea flowers “—with a wound like that, you’ll want to keep your immunity strong; this will help, just eat them over the next few days. You could probably benefit from some too!” She eyes Ashamin, laughing airily.

Perhaps all is well, now.


notes; Tia: -blissfully oblivious- XDD
“Speech.”