One glance at the cat would be enough to draw soft tears from the eyes of the pale mare who strides forth from the Oasis, pale mane streaming behind her like a soft banner of waves, creamy and delightful in the winter sun. Above, in the sky, floats the trill of a bird on small wings as he soars forward, Lyhty, greeting the day with an exuberant sort of glee. Onni, whose hooves meet the earth solidly and with purpose, striding forward without glee upon her face but worry in its place.

The tobiano paint was familiar, and the healer swore that her eyes had grazed his body after the invasion of the Edge, in the mass of bodies who crowded the misty forest once riddled solely with unicorns. She could be mistaken, though, for most of the battle was a blur of blood and riddle flesh, broken bones and sorrow. Perhaps, he was simply familiar as the General of the herd. His figure, not as prominent as Azzuen's in her mind, was still strong - strong enough to delve up a name and place it to his gentle face.

Wings folded upon her back, soon to be crowned by the same bird singing above, Onni comes to a halt before Midas, her limbs locking cleanly and neatly, holding her position even as she peers over his armored shoulder at the crumpled mass or orange, black, and blood on the red desert floor. A gasp is trapped in her throat, makes no sound in the air around them, but the expression holds true in her face, already pale as a sheet, before a curious look is directed at the stallion.

Healing a bear first, now a tiger. Surely, next would be a lion.

"What happened?" a physician's voice, distant and calm, takes the place of her gentle, soft breeze of tone. Lyhty notices the altering of her mood instantly, and takes to preening at her feathers reassuringly. The mare steps past the general, not waiting for a response, standing close enough to the small tiger to view his injuries but out of the range of his weak limbs. The look of death held in his feline eyes was enough to wisen her to his current mood - one that would kill. She lowers her head toward the ground, more at level with the cat, looking with blue eyes that were pushed to appear calm, though worry still fell from their edges.

A sweet, chime of silk comes next, Onni's gaze trying to hold the cat's. "You do not look as though you want my aid, but I feel you are far too strong to allow yourself to die." The mare had no way of knowing if her words would intelligible to the cat, but perhaps they would at least be soothing. "Shall I heal you, courageous one?"