05-09-2020, 01:36 PM
----------------tell me: who do i run to?
Pteron’s olive eyes snap open immediately. There is no sound in the still wounds save the distant roar of the river, no motion in the trees nearby. Yet the smell is thick in the air, far too close for comfort. He presses a kiss to Aegean’s cheek and then his belly, and slips away into the early morning light to find it.
Though the tobiano is by nature an empathetic creature, he is mostly seeking out the source to ensure that it does not endanger the antlered stallion in the distance. He follows the indent of hooves in the snow. They have been buried by the same light snowfall that slowly melts from his back, and the blood that had fallen as the creature walked smells stale. It is fresh on the gust off the River though, Pteron finds as he breaks into the open area near the water. His olive eyes cast over the snowy place. There – just at the edge of the forest – a horse stands.
Though it is hard to see her black wings amidst the torn flesh, Pteron has seen few other bald-faced mares with that particular coloring, and he recognizes Neverwhere long before he can separate her smell from the smell of blood.
This is, strangely, not the first time that the dun stallion has found a broken mare in the woods. But Vastra had not been bleeding like this, and Pteron doubts that Aten will appear from the woods to offer them sanctuary. This time it is just himself and Neverwhere, and Pteron knows that he is no help at all when it comes to wounds and injury.
“Neverwhere?” He asks cautiously, hesitant to disturb her even with the way she bleeds all over his forest. “You’ve picked a terrible place for a nap,” he tries, because someone had told him once that humor is the best medicine. The pegasus is not sure how that will help with the strange barb that protrudes from her shoulder or the way she is rent and battered.
@[Neverwhere]
-- pteron --