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She comes, the deathly scent of flesh drawing her, the scent of blackened skin and charred muscle, burnt and melted, twisted into what is but a parody of the former smoothness and elegance. The mare seeks it like a bloodhound, following the scents, and one would say she is hungry to heal, but the mender herself considers that much too vulgar and crass a word for her, so instead she moves with easy speed and a surprising amount of elegance for her large, normally clumsy pale body.
Originally, the graying mare had been searching for the Gray, somewhat uneased by the thought of having to tell the assassins and killers she was leaving them to join the Edge. In fact, she was rather petrified at the thought, but she would have to start somewhere to begin her movement to a homeland. Unless she found Phaedra- Phae would understand. No, that was a lie. Ophelia would understand, the young mare whose mind was much older than her body, the unicorn well-matured and understanding, immediately close to the draft.
Oh, in case you were wondering, the draft's name is Tor.
Her body, built for muscle and brawn as opposed to elegance and speed, moves through the Dark Forest, a spot of gleaming white only ever so faintly marred by the palest of grays. Once, she was midnight black painted white. Now, she is nearly fully cream. At that point, as a foal, she had prided herself on her clean, neatly-cut paint patches, representing the fine line between good and evil. As for now, she wonders if her lightening coat means she is turning what is defined as 'good'. Symbolically, white has almost always stood for peace and kindness, while black considered vile and dark. Yet Faelene wasn't evil, and Mauja was white, and he didn't come off nicely always as well.
Tor appears from the gloom, hearing his voice, hearing him speak. For a brief second, she had wondered if he was delirious, talking to himself- before she took note of the dog at his side. Ah. A companion. The mare, only a hand or so smaller than the broad stallion, quickly took in the injuries. She had seen such burns before- on Mauja, on Leander's companion, on countless others before she came to Helovia.
"I am a healer, sir. If you would not mind, I can heal you now?"
"TOR"
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