It had been another normal day for him. Since getting accepted the previous season, he was slowly working his way back out around places to see all of the places of Helovia. But he continually found himself drawn here, to the Thistle Meadow. He wasn't sure, maybe it was because it looked so nice and peaceful here. Again he could picture how it would look in the spring when the thistles were actually blooming and the purple blossoms would coat the field in their radiance. He took in a deep breath, his tail flickering behind him as he relaxed in what sun was left. The crispness of the air didn't bother him in the slightest today, it had simply gone too well. He was happy, happier than he had been in a long time since he started his journey to find his family. While he still hadn't tracked them down, he had found another sort that he could call his family. His herd. He was quickly becoming loyal to the point where he would do anything for them. Yet he still hadn't found the right job for himself around the herd.

The thought pulled a sigh out of him, he really did need to figure that out soon. After all, the palomino didn't want to let anyone down. His ears flickered at his brief agitation from his thought process, tail cutting through the air to swish against his sides. The sensation stung slightly and he instantly stopped it, snorting faintly and taking a few steps further into the meadow. He lowered his head, snuffling along the ground lightly as he looked for something to graze on, there were better ways for him to occupy his mind. Like eating, which his stomach quickly reminded him that he needed to do. He found a piece and quickly snatched it up, eyes lowering slightly as he decided to stop thinking and simply enjoy the process of eating. He could go back to the basics when he wanted to after all.

He didn't know how long he stood there grazing before something shifted in the corner of his eye. His head flew up, ears twisting to pick up any sounds while he moved his gaze back and forth to figure out what was going on.

There.

A quiver in the grass next to that tree.

Marius turned his attention to the spot, focusing on it solely and forgetting everything else around him for the moment. A twitch of his ears and then the faintest of sounds became clear. It was a bleating sound, it was a frightened bleating sound. He found his ears pressed back flat against his head at that realization, what could possibly be huddled against that tree so afraid? Curiosity drew him closer, step by step taking him within view of the huddled being.

He was a few lengths away when he realized what it was. A fawn, all alone. Where was its mother? Why was it just sitting there? ... Was that blood? The scent of iron was unmistakable, he had smelled it plenty of times while growing up in a battle field. His tail swished again and he shook his head, sending his mane slapping against either side of his neck. Blood meant injuries, and the only one that could possibly be injured was the fawn. Predators would be after the scent of blood soon enough, maybe he could help the fawn before then!

Approaching slower, he tried to send out positive energy to left the fawn know that he wasn't going to harm it. "Hi there little one, you look lonely," he said softly, his voice taking on what he hoped was a comforting tone. "You look like you could use some company, maybe some help. Would you like that?" Maybe if he just kept speaking softly he could get close enough to help. Being this close alerted him to the fact that the fawn was indeed injured, a bite on his leg that needed tended too before it got bad. He kept a running commentary of soothing phrases, simply trying to let the fawn know that he was going to help while his eyes flickered around to search for something he could use. Why had he never trained in healing before? Surely it would have come in handy!

Then his gaze alighted on a few bushes, each one with different sorts of things. Berries and flowers, leaves big enough to wrap a wound, and perhaps something else could be done with them- wait! That was it! The leaves, he could use the leaves. Some of the grass around here could certainly be used to bind the leaves around the fawn's leg and he could use a few of them to wipe up the blood. Perhaps he could get one of the leaves into a cup shape in order to get water to wash out the wound as well.

"I'm gonna help you, little one. We'll make sure that nothing bad happens to you," he said calmly, side stepping in order to grab a leaf in his mouth. Now he just needed to get it into a proper shape to carry water back over here from the river. "Have to wash out your wound, and then wrap it. Doesn't that sound like a good idea? That way nothing will happen to your wound, and it can start healing," he said after dropping the leaf. He started nudging it, attempting to figure out how he could get it into the right shape. He contemplated bringing the fawn to the water, but he didn't think it was in any shape to move at that moment. So, that left him with his original idea. Now to just make it work.

farenjer Evening's hot sun was lazily resting upon the ends of the lands. Sinking deeper and deeper, and on the other end. The peak of the moon, and small specks of stars could be seen. Soon the moon and stars would be brighter then ever. As if they were a collection or kingdom, and the great moon was the king of it all. This is what Farenjer would ponder to himself as he gazed heartily up into the sunset. It had been some time, until he had finally gotten courage to venture out here himself and see the Helovian world around him. Courage had defeated worry inside the stag's mind. Farenjer began to trot into the open dry meadows. A cold gust of wind came crawling through the fields, though any person would shudder. Farenjer's body would reluctantly not. Living in The Basin, the cold was your friend. Once you lived there, you would adapt quickly and have a advantage with it. Comfortable with the cold gusts Farenjer continued to walk in the fields. Orbs peered around for anyone or anything. Though nothing was in sight for him, the stag found a spot to have a snack. He lowered his thick neck down, and began to chew on dry grass. The mixture of taste and the moisture in his lips being sucked out by the dead plants was delicious and different. Usually The Basin had spring new grass always, with fresh water in them and always having a cold feeling through his lips and teeth. This was much different, which Farenjer found himself enjoying. He took many mouthfuls of grass, chewing the bitter bundle, before swallowing them down. His eyelids were half open, he felt tired now. Now the night was coming and he had his fill. The stag knew he may not rest until he had returned back to The Basin, for what unicorn could trust the wild without safe shelters? The stallion did not feel awfully risky these few weeks. He would just have to rest until he got back to his herd lands. He trusted the thoughts that circled his mind, and nodded slightly in agreeing with himself. For what equine does not talk to themselves now and then? There is not anyone else to talk to. Or for Farenjer in the situation, there might be someone else. Farenjer raised his head in the air, eyes peaking up to the darkening sky. Something made his insides jump, as ears and head snapped to the direction where a cry came from. It came from some kind of creature that Farenjer did not know of. He stood frozen in his spot, looking over with excitement and curiosity. Yet something inside told him that the cry was a cry for help the stag for now, ignored the thought as he looked before him. In the distance, another stallion was there. This one was very close to where it had come from. How could I have not seen them? Farenjer quietly spoke in his thoughts almost as a whisper. The stallion then slowly approached the thin bushes, where Farenjer could just see a blur of a creature. But for sure, the stag did not know what it was yet. He could tell the horse could see what the creature was, and just from afar see him shaking his head. He approached whatever the thing was, and the stag could tell his lips were moving, speaking to it. Now Farenjer was too curious, he quickly began stumbling towards them. But with caution, he withdrew from his frozen spot into a slow walk. To not put hostility into his actions, Farenjer's ears peaked on the top of his head, showing positivity and interest as well at what the creature was. He could tell the stallion might have not noticed him yet. Farenjer was cautious yet he didn't want to scare the other, just approach with peace. I hope my appearance will not intimidate him... the stag fumbled inside his mind as he slowly walked over. Finally finding himself appearing just a yard away he halted quietly. Beaded eyes beamed at him from the scarred creature. And now Farenjer now knew what it was, but only a little fawn. Something inside him warmed up his heart to see it. He looked at the stallion then back at the baby. Then his eyes wavered over the fresh wound on it's right leg. You poor thing.... echoed through his head as he inhaled the smell of scarlet blood. He wrinkled his nose in disgust of the weak smell the wound gave off, but soon disappeared. As he looked at the fawn, fear was overrunning it, it was stressing. He carefully wavered his attention half on the baby and over to the stranger"Hello. I see you also wouldn't want this fawn to die either." His eyes were clouded with pity for the poor child. He now looked over to the stallion again and inquired "My name is Farenjer, what is your name?" Farenjer glanced over to the river that ran through the fields. The slow rush of water made him think. "I'm no healer, but I would do anything about right now to save this little guy." hope flashed through his eyes "I want to help save him. Can I assist in anyway?" Even if the stranger would say no, he was not going to take it. He would do anything for the fawn, and no stranger from another herd was going to tell him he couldn't. "We need to get his wound washed first, all that blood on the nasty thing will only make it worse, and if I am correct, that looks like a bite mark, something bit him." The stag inquired, loud enough for the other stallion to hear.

Irrydae found herself back in the Thistle Meadow, grim faced and staring into the distance. She had spent all hours of the morning to get here. She had not flown, she had not run, but she had walked. She had moseyed along, watching the birds and critters and taking her time to look at peculiar plants or interesting lines in the bark of a tree. She was still stuck on her most recent meeting in the Threshold where she had been so blatantly denied. It left a bitter tasting in her mouth. She snorted roughly, teeth clenched as she watched the day fly by. She didn't know why she was here, but she had come nonetheless. She lowered her neck, teeth snatching up blades of grass before she tenderly plucks and Thistle, enjoying the rare delicacy. It was rare for her, at least. Before long, she realizes that the sun is making it's descent into the sky. She raises her head, ears pricked forward and eyes gleaming as she watches the gorgeous sunset, tail swishing back and forth, back and forth. What a waste of a day. Then she hears it, muffled, distant voices. And she can smell others, and the rusty rancid smell of blood fills her nose. She recoils. I must go help. She swings her hips around, pushing off the ground with strong hind legs and quickly finding others. She listens to them talk quietly as she inspects to poor fawn. Yes, they needed to clean the blood, but they also must stanch the bleeding. "Before we clean the blood we must stanch the bleeding," she finally speaks, golden orbs inspecting the two other horses. Oh how she wished she had healing magic now. If only she could reach Apollo quickly. Her head swivels around as she looks around for something that could restrict the blood flow. She then sees the bushes and motions toward them. "I will grab the leaves of the tall bush, we might be able to tie it above the wound... do either of you know if any of the flowers or berries does anything? Like reduce pain and possibly help the healing process?" She brainstorms aloud, instincts going into drive as she talks to the two, focus entirely on saving the poor baby. Irrydae walks over to the fawn gently, wings dangling at her sides. "Hello," she breaths, smiling at him. "My name is Irrydae. I am here to help you- can you trust me?" She asks, not wanting to scare the traumatized fawn. If needed, she could tell him stories too, that was her job, right? She could keep him entertained and also help the other two with the wound. It was growing dark, and visibility would be a problem until she remembered. With a simple thought, Aurora Borealis started to stream from the stars on the tips of her wings, rising up above them and illuminating them in a array of muffled colors. It was better then complete darkness, and she didn't know if the moon would be out or bright enough tonight. She glances up at the sky, hoping clouds won't gather and that things won't get too cold for the fawn. So many problems, so little time. irrydae,

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Tandavi I have not seen many days yet, but I believe that the days of autumn must be the best. There is so little time between sunset and sunrise, my favorite times of the day. It is my favorite because the sky is painted in gold and red, like me. Mother tells me that I am day, bright and beautiful. It is another way we are different, because she is night, black and covered in stars. Things that are different are interesting, I have found. They seem to play off each other, like fire and shadow do, showing the bits and pieces of the world we couldn't see normally. Today has been different, and it has shown me a new part of the world. I am on an adventure in the tall tall grass, and Natraj trots beside me on stout black legs, a tiny shadow that barely keeps pace with my childish walk and slips between thick thistle stalks. It is our first trip away from the place where we were born, and I have already found that things are different here than they are at home. The meadow is full of bushy thistles that I have never seen on the edge of the world, and when they are not hitting me in the face they are very appealing. We found a great body of water that stretches almost as far as I can see, and as the sun drifted to the western horizon we walk beside it, wondering if it will ever end. The tall thistles hide most of the world from my view, but I can hear voices coming from my left, grown-up voices that speak with the same soft coo they use to address me. Natraj looks up at me with gold eyes; he knows as well as I do that there could be something to learn here, something new to see, and of course we cannot pass up an opportunity like that. So rustle towards a tall red oak, fire and shadow among the swaying stalks, unperturbed by the mass of adults gathered around this area of interest. The air smells of blood. I know the scent of blood because when Kali hunts for Natraj, that is the smell she brings back with her. The adults are gathered around the source of blood, and do not seem to notice me as I come up behind them, rising only to the shortest's shoulder. There are many of them, three, just like Natraj's tails, and all are different and only one smells like home. There is one with a horn, one without, and is a great winged creature who looks like the stars and reminds me of mother, spilling light from her excess appendages. Beautiful; I have never seen light like this before. I may have a new favorite time, though - the time when this is in the sky. Natraj is not so distracted. He whines at me and draws my attention to the fallen creature they are fixated on, black form weaving between long limbs to reach the side of the creature who is even smaller than I. Where is its mother? Mine would never leave me if I was hurt like this, I think. Mothers are not supposed to leave their children. Mothers do not leave their children. Something must have happened to the mother, and that is sad. What if something happened to my mother? Would I be alone, hurt and abandoned and surrounded by strangers? No, not alone, never alone, because I have Natraj. Is that why Mother gave me Natraj? So I would never be alone? Natraj is at the side of the fallen animal now, and I slip between the adults on golden socks, pursuing my tiny friend and coming up close to the other child. The kitsune looks at the bleeding wound with great golden eyes, confused - is this friend or food? "Friend," I breathe quietly to him from beneath the steady hum of speech and life, and he nods and steps forward, pressing miniscule black paws against the creature's right flank and looking up curiously at him. Natraj will clean the cut, and I will be the child's friend, because we have to stay together when we are young. I will take it home to Mother and Mother will care for it like she does for me. It will be my friend, just as Natraj is, and it will never be alone. The grown-ups can find a way to heal it, I know. It will be alright.

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Look down The ground below is crumbling Look up The stars are all exploding It had been a long day, packed to the brim with adventure and discovery. By late afternoon, the bright blue sky was already awash with vivid sunset hues- the days were shortening, the solitary oaks that she found to played around were skeletal, having shed their foliage before first frosts of a bitter winter. Already the air was laced with a frigid chill, and the wind as it billowed and rustled through the long golden grasses of the meadow, drew a shiver up the length of the young mare’s spine. Her stride was irregular, carefree and playful as she crossed through the grassland, pausing every so often to nibble at the prickly violet thistle flowers who defied the cooling season, blooming late and long. Africa appreciated the effort naturally, and tenderly lipped the rough bark-like encasing away so that the flowers might grow ever larger and bolder. Mostly, the few oaks scattered throughout the area were balding; the thick sea of grass dry and brown as the dry wind choked the soil of moisture; so any display of life and vigour was nurtured by the upcoming ‘botanist-at-heart’. With a final parting sniff of the un-aromatic bloom, Africa danced away again, her shoulders unburdened with the weight of responsibility and rank. So far, and despite her most enthusiastic efforts, she remained without work and that allowed much time to frolic and play. She cut through the meadow in the direction of the stream just as she had on many occasions before. The territory was familiar by now, and as such her manner was calm and relaxed. That was until voices sifted through the breeze, bathing the forward tilt of her ears and rousing her easily distracted curiosity. There were three distinct owners, she believed, and their tones rang clear through the evening tranquillity, yet not by any means raised or upset. "We need to get his wound washed first, all that blood on the nasty thing will only make it worse, and if I am correct, that looks like a bite mark, something bit him." Continued one, a stallion and his question was answered swiftly by a mare... “Before we clean the blood we must stanch the bleeding...” Bleeding? Intrigued, Africa pranced forward again, veering left to follow the trailing conversation. Currently she was pursuing her desires to study beneath the Throat’s Shaman Cirrus- though it was a slow and tedious process for one who was so young, bright and overly eager to achieve. She broke into a light-footed canter, spotting the near-naked arms of an old, woody oak. Beneath its reach were three horses, all unfamiliar she noticed as she slowed to close the final gap at a more cautious pace. A soft murmuring noise was emitted ahead of her arrival so as not to spook the group. They were fussing busily, and Africa’s eyes widened, both interested and confused. She only realised the object of their attention when she halted by the mare, whose head had been lowered towards the gnarled surface roots anchoring the tree. “Oh! She exclaimed with surprise at the injured creature, as the mare’s lingering question seemed to hover through the atmosphere- that which suddenly burst to life with strange, dancing lights. “I cannot answer your question, though I will help if I can. I am Africa...” Africa was a primitive soul, not particularly clever or talented, but she was thoughtful and selfless. Pale eyes scoured the earth around them, and the small helpless animal, locating a sharp rock. Immediately she shuffled towards it and knelt down so that its jagged tip pierced the knobbly bulge of her knee. Tingling pain shot through her leg and through a grimace, she slowly lifted herself to stand again. Tears swelled her eyes. While the pain surged, she hobbled towards the bushes in question and nibbled three berries off the first- as the seconds passed, Africa called out to the mare who was assessing the larger, second shrub. “The pain remains... I feel no different.” The fruits were tart and left a metallic residue across her squirming tongue- perhaps they were unripe. Though calm, she moved with urgency towards the large wheel-like flower- marvelling of course, at the sheer loveliness. It was a shame to ruin such delicate beauty and instead of reaching for the petals, the young horse lipped at the dainty teardrop leaves, ingesting them quickly. Instantly, and much to her astonishment, the watery film across her eyes cleared and the tears which had started to spill across her cheek were dried. “Goodness!” Africa blurted, turning at once to look at each of the tree strangers. “The leaves! My eyes are not weeping.” The pain remained, throbbing beneath the slow trickling emergence of blood. Even above that pang though, her thoughts seemed clearer- less consumed by the ache. She peered at the large round flowers again narrowing her eyes curiously. “Perhaps...” She muttered beneath her breath, and reached forward to pull it from its nest amongst the leaves. Chewing heartily, she was delighted by the sweet, aromatic flavour that seemed to unleash a fizz through her entire mouth. The repulsive taste still present from the berries was drowned by the flood of her stimulated saliva, and a blissful smile pulled the corners of her mouth back into a loose, clumsy grin. All of a sudden, her jaw fell slack and her eyes began to cloud with some sensation alike to ecstasy. The pain had vanished from her body entirely, all of the sensitive nerves throughout were dulled completely, and the interlocking network of her muscles numbed. Perhaps she appeared drunk, listless or just stupid- but before she collapsed into a smiling, oblivious heap, Africa managed to stammer, “J... j... just use a t...t...taste...” As her eyes began to roll, the young horse noticed another had come, a child maybe- and she giggled hopelessly as she noticed two tails on the fox-creature flanking her. "Thinking. Speaking. Acting."

By the time Sacre had reached the place of his birth the sun had set and his way was lit by the silver hues of the moon. All seemed peaceful if it wasn't fur his hurried steps and his worried expression. "Roux!" He shouted frantically, knowing Aramis was surely somewhere nearby, but his brother was not. Not being able to find him in the Basin, Sacre had stumbled out and travelled to the one place he knew best other than his home land. It was a long way and he may not have made it if it wasn't for his father's hell dog that showed him the directions and was a welcome company. He only wished that Aramis would be able to alert him to any sign on his brother, his heart was like a sledgehammer against his tiny body as he constantly worried about all the possible scenarios. Maybe he was with father or mother, maybe he was panicking for no reason and should've stayed in the Basin. Yet, he couldn't help it and each minute was like a minute in hell. "Roux!" Suddenly voices reached his and the foal jumped in fright. Falling to a dead halt with lobes twitching in uncertainty. Should he go ask them, if they had seen Roux? What if they were bad horses, like father had told him about and they turned to attack him. He felt sick with the indecision, but he bravely strode forwards with icy eyes hardening in resolve. He needed to find Roux; no matter what. There were many and they all seemed to be crowded around something small. One of them smelt like his own herd, the bay with the spark like markings all over his face. Sacre had never met him before, but it was a small comfort to know he was not completely alone in the face of so many strange scents. Two had strange looking limbs protruding from their sides, were these what his father called pegasus? The other golden man and the filly who seemed not much different in age than himself, they had no horns. These were strange creatures and Sacre felt a mixture of intrigue and fright. He didn't know if he was making the right choices, if fleeing would've been the better option instead of being surrounded by unknown souls. However, the deciding factor was when he finally got a look at the young fawn who shivered under the canopy of a great oak tree. The colt was suddenly taken by a swift concern and he watched rather helplessly from the rear of the group as the adults seemed to be taking control of the situation. Almost on impulse, Sacre followed the golden filly and her strange looking pet through the crowds of large horses until she stood before the fallen fawn. Strangely announcing the word friend before falling silent. The foal looked to the others all around him and silently wished Aramis would come back, make him feel less like a stranger surrounded by oddness. They all seemed concerned for the one life of the fawn, but surely they could help it? Sacre had never felt so helpless in his entire life. His father was a healer and he had to stop himself from suggesting he go find him, because he knew simply from observing that his father would not help such a pathetic looking thing. Roux, where was Roux? He felt so alone in this strange crowd as he stood next to the girl of warm hues. "I will help if I can, though... I do not know how. Father would've known." He spoke sadly. The adults conversed some more, they seemed interested in the bushes around them, but Sacre was still just a child. Perhaps as young as the poor fawn that lay on the ground. No, all he could offer was a silent companionship until Aramis returned.

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