I watch as they look at us, as they see the melancholy that plagues, the depression that threatens to swallow my little cloud child. She has grown so much in the time that I have known her, and yet, this sadness wears upon her, it drowns any happiness that I might be able to offer her, it rolls across her hide as clearly as the clouded skies above us. Even as the fiery light of magic illuminates her form, that sadness does not shift, it is merely masked. The healing magic does bring a smile to her face, it is a kind, warm smile, as she receives the permission to use it upon this colt. She is excited to be able to bring less pain to others, less suffering, even if she was unable to alleviate her own. My little cloud steps towards the colt, her soft muzzle outstretched, towards him, and upon making contact, she encourages the flow of magic to move from herself to him. It is a curious thing to behold, that of light dancing from within the breast of my beloved, to the surface, across the point of contact forged by her nose.

It dances lightly from healer to patient, and I know though my bonded that it leaves a warm sensation in its wake, like the comforting embrace of a hug from one's mother. Cirrus orchestrates it to work upon the young Oras now, to restore his strength, to seal the cuts that mar his hide, to cure any infections that might try to plague him. Thin lines of almost healed scabs remain once my beloved calls the magic back to herself, her smile fading as she does so, the moment of happiness having passed. The young nurse takes a step back, away from the colt now, looking over her handiwork as I sniff the air with my sensitive nostrils, confirming that she had, as always, done an exemplary job. I move my form to her side once more, our matching eyes meeting fondly as I try to cling to the happiness that I saw before - but with a shift in the chilly wind that surrounds us, I know it has already been lost, despite my urgings for it to remain. I try regardless, as my beloved releases a tired sigh from her lungs - the task of a healer was one that not only utilised the magic of the lands, but also the mind and body of the healer - she was but a vessel for the great powers that resided here, and they were a burden as much as they were a blessing.

"Are you feeling better, Oras?" Her angelic voice inquired to the colt, her façade attempting to place a smile on her lips, but it is weak and shaky, small and outshined by the otherwise dreary outlook on her visage. She asked the question as a confirmation, a hope that at least in this task, she would not fail.