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Tor wasn't trespassing- she was visiting. There was a difference- to trespass is to intrude with offensive meanings behind it, while visitation was the act of meeting politely and quietly with the inhabitants of the Dragon's Throat. For yes, she was travelling to the Dragon's Throat, to one of the few places in Helovia the healer had never been to it. She had been all over Helovia in the endurance race, which she had placed second in. She had been to the Frozen Arch, and to the Frostbreath Steppe, to heal the band of racist unicorns and Mauja the exiled king himself. She had been to the Endless Blue to talk with Ophelia, the unicorn mare, and had become ever closer to the unicorn. She had been to the Thistle Meadow to meet Torasin, she had been forced to the World's Edge by Lace only to be let go by Mirage, she had been to the Deep Forest to be attacked by wolves and meet others, and had been part of the Grey's meeting there.
Tor enjoyed the thought she might even be becoming well-known around Helovia for her healing. Maybe. Probably not, but it was fun to imagine that. No, Tor was not a fame hound, she simply loved to heal and help others, and hoped that others would know of this, so she could heal and help even more horses. Which brings us back to her visitation- yes, visitation, of the Dragon's Throat and what transpired there. I don't even know the whole story yet, so don't ask!
It was a rather depressing day, in Tor's opinion, although that didn't affect Tor's mood. The sky was gathering, black clouds appearing on the rim of the world from nowhere, crackling gray sheets that swirled and mixed into a single, solid force of nature that had not yet released its intent upon the world. It had formed and moved so quickly it seemed as if in fast-motion, Tor thought to herself, watching the black fold and sweep and expand to encompass the sky. Here at the edge of the territory, the black sky was an intimidating sight, along the abrupt stop of the Dragon Throat's inhabitants' smell. Hesitantly, the mare paused, uncertain if to continue or to turn back, and run from the storm until she fell over from exhaustion. In the end, Tor continued, white legs moving swiftly, feathers floating. There was an ominous silence, the calm before the storm, until Tor was cantering towards the herd, where she would be more sheltered among the bodies of horses than anywhere else she could reach in the brief time before the storm broke.
With a snort, the draft mare slowed, dislike on her face as she looked at the sand. It was a funny, shifting surface, altogether too hard to run on, she decided internally. Too late to turn back now. The healer glanced at the horses, and asked politely of the filly and her mother she was closest to, "Would you mind terribly if I sheltered with you? I have some news of the land, if you wish to hear it."
"talk talk talk"
move move move
think think think
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![[Image: winter_snow_by_ladyfey-d5g626q.png]](http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/271/6/a/winter_snow_by_ladyfey-d5g626q.png)
