I was recovering now, though if I were drawing strength from myself or from my new friend, I was unsure. I chanced a glance upward (for he was much taller than I) and allowed a slight smile to grace my features. In it, I was sure, my relief and thankfulness was embodied, shining out like so many stars. Though the Frostfall eve was chilly, the wind drifting through the trees frigid, Thor's massive body was warm, and I huddled in his shadow, allowing him to block what little wind wound its way through the tree trunks here. Absentmindedly, I reached up to rub my muzzle along his cheek, another motion of thanks and affection all mixed into one. It was a motion that I didn't think twice about; but still, I could not quell the electricity that sparked at the touch.

As my cranium lowered once more, I heard his words: "I think I can help." I leaned away almost without meaning to, recoiling from the words in surprise. That was all it was at first, as I stood apart from him, staring at him with wide chocolate orbs, a sharp intake of breath that I was unaware of holding, feeling the chill caress my pelt as I lost contact with him. And then the glee began to creep in. The breath that I had inhaled so suddenly left me with a soft whoosh, and I felt the bubble of excitement begin to work its way up from my chest, as though it were a giggle that I was fighting to hold in. It rose higher in my throat, found its way into my mouth, fighting against my teeth, forming into words. "You think you can help." The words were flat in comparison to the warring emotions within me, and particularly stupid given the circumstances.

But I was not one to lose decorum simply because of a little - a lot - of overwhelming emotion. I felt a grin on my lips, a warmth flooding my veins. And my next words were much happier, laced with happiness and hope and all the things that I had thus far denied myself. Perhaps I have less control than I thought. "No one has ever - how can you - what do you - how are you going to help?" It was a stammering mess of words, but none more important had ever been voiced. It was, perhaps, in that moment, that I realized just how closely linked to this stallion I felt.

He was the first to stay with me, the first to care for me, and despite earlier reservations I had no doubts about him. In fact, I quite wanted him to stay with me. It was another surprising emotion in the cacophony of feelings that already welled deep inside me, and I danced toward him again, remarkably light on my feet. I felt his body against mine again, and I lipped his mane with tenderness. I had regained my senses by then, and I spoke again, this time more coherently. "I'm not sure how you plan to help me, but I believe I can honestly say that I will do anything you say if you think it will help." It was a lost of trust to place on the steed, but I trusted him. For the first time, I truly trusted someone.

[W/C | 562]