“Maybe one day it will be,” he responded gently, letting himself enjoy the brief respite from the hard work in her presence. She was one of the first he had met that did not look outwardly broken or in pain; she was not wracked with sobs or bleeding or shelled out. She, instead, seemed to be braving the change with a set jaw and her head held high. He could respect that—but it also worried him. Did it mean that she simply had nothing to lose? Was she turning a blind eye to the pain? He watched her carefully, tucking away the thoughts for a later time; he wasn’t willing to psychoanalyze her, but he wouldn’t ignore his intuition.
At her inquisition, he found himself momentarily unsure of himself, rolling his scarred shoulders.
“However, I can, to be truthful.” One corner of his mouth lifted into a cautious smile, dark-flecked eyes flickering. “Offering physical support to help those injured travel. Offering to help find lost ones for those who shook apart during the incident. Whatever it is that I can do, I think it is my duty to do so.”
Magnus did not consider himself to be a particularly selfless stallion—he could be arrogant, cruel, and even self-serving, at times—but he did his best to ignore those desires. Someone once said that good and evil were like wolves fighting in your belly: the winner dependent on who you fed. Magnus knew this to be true. Every morning, he rose with light and shadow wrestling in his very core, fighting for the dominant hand. While light did not always prevail, he did his best to strengthen it however and whenever he could.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” he inquired gently, wondering if she was in need of anything at all.
magnus
![[Image: gqYjsHr.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/KjqNDKxc/gqYjsHr.png)