Some of the ill effects of the serpent’s poison must have still lingered in Roland’s blood, for as he reached the edge of the Thistle Meadow the stallion was suddenly unsure of what had motivated him to come to this particular place. The venom pulsing through his body must have clouded his judgement, and rather than heading back to the herd after he’d been attacked, his hooves had found a more appealing path. He’d trekked all night until he found himself in the embrace of a dark forest, leaving behind the cold and the snow, and now was enjoying the warm summer sun against his back as he hesitated at the edge of the field. Watery early morning light was casting a pale glow across the Unicorn’s ghastly features, his neck still smeared with blood, eyes shadowed with fatigue.

The sunlight brought out the streaks of red in his champagne hair, golden pelt gleaming as he made his way sluggishly across the field, lush grass brushing against his knees. He remained close to the forest, not wanting to be seen by someone or something that might deem him a threat. In his already poor condition he didn’t want to risk another quarrel. Though his legs felt weak, he managed to persevere until he found himself at the edge of the stream, looking down at his less than appealing reflection in the water. Dark blood was dried across his neck and chest, but luckily that was the extent of the damage, and he was otherwise physically unharmed.

Roland let out a sigh, face twisting into a grimace as he touched his lips to the cool water, drinking deeply as if quenching a thirst that had lasted a thousand years. It seemed to help clear the fog in his mind, and he began to think, unenthusiastically, about returning to the Basin. Pain blossomed from his neck, making the stallion wince as he turned his head and looked out across the field. It had been a foolish idea to wander so far from the herd when he was wounded. Rather than standing in the middle of a place of no consequence, he should have been back in the safety of his new family, seeking out a healer to help mend the wound that was so garishly presented on his otherwise unmarred coat.

Shaking away the thought, he took a deep breath of cool air and turned northwards, regretting his decision to walk this far and the fact that he now has to travel the long distance back to the Basin. He turned his back to the gurgling stream and took the first grueling step forwards, gaze set on the trees ahead. He was almost beneath the forest’s shadow when a flash of blinding light caught his eye, and he turned towards it with mixed curiousity and apprehension. The form of a white mare was outlined against the dark trees, a lush cream mane hanging down her neck, antlers sprouting from her crown. She was certainly a sight for sore eyes, and Roland abandoned all thought of returning to the Basin so soon, stepping off the path of his retraced steps and heading towards her.

As he wandered closer he noted the scent of the Basin floated about her too, carried towards him by the wind. It set his cautious mind at ease, as she had no reason to harbor any resentment towards him when they shared the same home. He tried to ignore the dried blood spilled across his chest, as if in hopes that by doing so the mare would also cast a blind eye towards it. Coming to stand before her, he tipped his head to the side in greeting. “Enjoying the sun? ” He asked, hiding his pain and uncertainty behind a charming smile.

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The carefree smile Roland had pressed onto his features slipped as the mare turned towards him and interrupted herself with a cry of shock, stepping towards him with large eyes. Did he really look that horrid? The stallion flinched away as she approached, eyes as wide as her own. He was surprised at how suddenly she felt at ease around him, fretting over his wound as if he were a friend; ignoring the possibility that he could be a sly killer steeped in the colour of his trade. As she stared in horror at his neck, he gave her a comforting smile in an effort to put her more at ease. “Don’t worry; it’s just a bit of blood. I’m sure the cut isn’t as bad as it looks,” he said softly, in between her outbursts.

Her mention of the Time Mender cast his mind back to the Basin, making him feel suddenly weary. He wasn’t ready for the long journey back to the herd, and would rather enjoy this small bit of sun before returning to winter’s chilling embrace. Besides, he had the mare’s doting company to help pass the time. She still seemed transfixed on the bite, though beneath the matted blood it wasn’t too deep, but all his movement over the past few hours had caused blood to seep out across his neck like a dark, smudged hand print. Roland’s gaze flicked between his wound and the mare’s face, resting on her when she introduced herself as Arah. He dipped his head, bending awkwardly to avoid stretching the wounded flesh. “Roland,” he supplied shortly, seeing no reason as of yet to invest his trust in her even though she was trying to help him.

The second time she ordered him towards the stream he obliged, turning on his heels and making his way back to the familiar gurgle of rushing water. A look of uncertainty crossed his face as he looked down again, tipping his head to the side so the scarlet stain was visible in the wavering reflection of the stream. It was a mere gruesome illusion, and Roland trusted that once the blood was washed from the wound he would look good as new, which in his opinion was quite good indeed. Glancing back at the mare, the stallion lowered himself into the moving water and flinched at the cold against his legs. With the heat of the sun beating down on his back, it was like shards of ice were digging into his skin, but he soon adjusted to the temperature and relaxed into the chest high water.

He hoped Arah knew what she was doing, as he wasn’t willing to be poked and prodded painfully when the wound was still relatively fresh. The cooling water seemed to soothe some of the pain as it rippled against his chest in a steady pressing current, washing away some of the fresher blood. It flowed like thin ribbons of scarlet, dispersing into the water until it disappeared. Roland averted his eyes from his wound and looked up at Arah with a quiet sigh. “It’s just a snake bite. I, ah, encountered some interesting magic last night and got on its bad side,” he explained, skimming over the details as they were foggy in his own mind.

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Roland tipped his head back to look at Arah as she joined him in the water, hooves crunching against the pebbles and soft sand that lined the bottom of the stream. The tugging current lessened around his limbs as her body blocked the water’s pressure, giving him a chance to relax. Arah’s hair fanned impressively across the rippling surface of the brook, and Roland silently wondered how she kept it so clean and untangled. When she moved closer, a look of concentration on her face, the stallion tipped his chin and moved his head to the side, exposing the wound to her. The skin stretched painfully around the bite marks, causing him to wince slightly, but he expertly hid the pain so as to keep the mare calm, as she was clearly out of her element.

He flinched away as Arah began to splash cold water onto his golden skin, velvety muzzle brushing against his neck fleetingly as the dried blood of last night’s events washed away. Roland hoped the unpleasant memory of his attack would follow the scarlet trail and no longer plague his mind; he wasn’t sure whether to feel confusion or embarrassment towards the calamity, but the wound wasn’t one he would wear proudly. Water trickled noisily from his chest back into the stream, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling with the sun shining warmly on his back. Looking out across the meadow, he allowed his mind to wander in the peaceful silence.

Standing there, he realized how much he missed the sun when he was up in the north. The warmth was still present, but amongst the wind and sheltered by towering mountains it never seemed as pleasant as it did when surrounded by vibrant greenery and colourful wild flowers. He wasn’t sure if he regretted his decision to join the Basin yet, as he had only been with them for a very short time; but the lively scenery and bright blue sky was still a nostalgic image. He only had the bleak white and diluted grays to look upon in the Basin, despite the fact that grass did show in some places. It was little comfort in comparison to what he’d grown used to; lush foliage beneath his feet, and the familiar rustle of leaves with every gust of tropical wind.

Roland glanced back at Arah as she retreated slowly, forehead creased into a frown. He could tell she was uncomfortable and at a loss as to what she should do, but he expected nothing more of her than a little help, and what she had done for him already he was grateful for. Chuckling dismissively at her comment, he stretched his neck out and looked down at the now clean wound. There had never been much cause for worry about the nature of the lesion in his eyes, but he couldn’t blame her for being worried. The bite marks were raw and ugly, but in time they would heal and hopefully leave no scar to tell of their existence.

He grimaced at her question as the antlered mare leaned close to inspect the wound again. “Yes, I believe so. After being bitten I was consumed with deliriousness and lost my sight temporarily.” As Arah pulled herself from the stream he followed suit, hide shivering as he tried to shake some of the water from his short fur, giving her a calm look and gesturing around the meadow with his muzzle. “That’s how I ended up here, when I’d had no intention of wandering so far from the herd. But I don’t think it had any lethal effects, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here at all,” he added with a grim smile.

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The sun’s heat was blissfully warm against Roland’s back, and already the water was beginning to dry from his golden hide. With his wound washed, the torn flesh was already beginning to feel better, and the throbbing pain that had pulsed through his neck had lessened to a faded sting. The stallion watched in silence as water streamed from Arah’s cream hair, pooling around her feet in the tall grass. He smiled dryly at her chastising remark, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. As much as he would have liked to remain beneath a blue sky and bright sun, he knew it was time to return to the Basin. It was foolish to have left in the first place, though he hadn’t exactly been in his right mind. He was grateful for having stumbled across Arah, and he hadn’t even had to con kindness from her.

Even though she wasn’t a proper healer, she had at least directed him towards the road to recovery. With his wound cleaned, it wouldn’t be such a bumpy journey. “Thank you for your help,” he said earnestly, sapphire eyes following the white doe’s gaze as she looked down at a solitary flower dancing languidly in the breeze. Stretching his stiff neck, he squinted across the field, tracing the dark tree line with his eyes. The very thought of the long trek back home, if he could even call it that yet, made his muscles ache. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Arah suddenly let out a jarring cry of pain, causing a startled bird to leap from the grass. The stallion’s head snapped back in her direction, heart leaping in his chest. He was already moving towards her before he realized what had happened.

Given her awkward posture, he assumed she’d gotten her hoof stuck in a rabbit hole. The scent of blood mingled sickeningly with the fragrance of wildflowers as he neared, and Roland grimaced as he looked down at the crimson stain on Arah’s fetlock. The mare’s voice was laced with pain as she gasped out a plea for help, pulling at her limb in hopes of releasing it from the earth’s grip. Roland ignored her extraneous words and stepped closer, touching his muzzle comfortingly against her neck. “Stop moving,” he commanded, mind frantically searching for a way to free her. He could try and dig away the rocks and dirt with his blade-like horn, but it would be too easy to slip and cut her when the stones dug so firmly into her skin.

He dismissed her apology with a shake of his head, moving to stand perpendicular to her and lowering his head to press the crest of his neck against her throat. His knees buckled slightly as he tried to lower himself to match her height, shoulder brushing against her chest. Water dripped from her mane onto his withers, but he ignored the cool dampness and steadied himself. “When I push, try and lift your foot free,” he instructed. It wasn’t going to be easy for her to work her hoof loose, but he could think of no other way.

Hopefully the pressure of his body against hers would be enough to wrench her free, but the wound would have to be washed before they did anything else. They would seem quite the pair, both returning to the Basin boasting wounds of their own. Roland might have found some dry humour in their predicament, but he was too focused on helping her escape from the sharp stones. Taking in a deep breath, he tensed his limbs and pushed against her chest, lifting his neck to put gentle pressure against her throat.

(Sorry for the wait! I had a busy week at school.)

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With the gentle pressure of his body against hers, Arah finally managed to wriggle her foot free from the hole in the earth. The mare gasped in pain as they lurched upwards and Roland stumbled to the side, finding his footing and casting her a worried glance. She moved away from him and he leant back to give her space, but remained at her side lest she required some support. The wound in his neck ached dully from the exertion, but he paid it no mind as his eyes fell to her wounded limb. The flesh had been cut around her fetlock and blood darkened her white fur, but despite its gruesome appearance it didn’t appear to be too serious.

Roland stared at the scarlet smear across her ankle and fought down a feeling of guilt, for in a roundabout way it was his fault that she had gotten hurt. It had never been his intention to get her caught up in helping him, but to his relief the grin she sent his way seemed to show she held nothing against him. “Think nothing of it,” he replied with a dismissive shrug of his shoulder. He was certain she would have done the same for him had he been in that position. The white mare reached towards him and Roland pressed back into her, a soft smile growing on his face as Arah brushed against side and retreated.

Already in the short amount of time they’d spent together she had grown on him. Perhaps all the Basin’s members weren’t as cold hearted and distant as he had been led to think, which was a relief. As they were both Phantoms, perhaps they would be able to work together in the future, and she could ease his way into the new life he was beginning. He caught her wink and chuckled, pleased to see that she was able to find humour in their situation despite the pain she must have been feeling. He often looked upon the darker side of things, but it was difficult to be cynical when in such optimistic company.

Roland cast a glance up at the sun as Arah mentioned returning to the Basin, noting that it had almost reached its apex among the sparse clouds. He was enjoying the heat in the meadow, the warm breeze full of the scent of wild flowers and grass, but they could not remain here forever. It would be a long walk- even longer now that Arah was wounded as well. Her question elicited a nod from him, blue eyes dropping down to meet her gaze, “I think it would be wise to return now so we might arrive while there is still daylight.” He stepped towards her and cocked his head, gesturing in the vague direction of their home with a friendly smile. “Care to join me?”

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