resurrect the saint within the wretch
There is a coldness that floods his muscles, seeping deep into his bones and it is not from whatever injuries he sustained from his fall to earth. He groans, attempting to roll his legs beneath him so that he could stand, but finds the inability to do so. His breath is still ragged, barely-there as his lungs rattle helplessly, his deep blue eyes staring into the sun. Warden hears his name but it is garbled and unclear, but he knows for certain it is not Flower and for this, despite his situation, there is a tiny sliver of peace that radiates through him. At least she was not here to see him, to know of what is to come.
His eyes roll to meet the concerned face of Wishbone and the wave of emotion that trembled into his chest moments before his collapse onto the beach now pummels through him again. “Svedka,” the horned stallion gasps, blood now covering the pale ivory of his lips from whatever inner injuries he has sustained. Warden wheezes, “we have to find Svedka. Now.” He leaves no room for questioning, only that it must be so and from what he has learned in his short time of knowing Wishbone, she will not hesitate a rise to action.
Adrenaline rushes through the overo stallion, somehow finding the strength to attempt to stand. With Wishbone, it’s possible he could.
One wing is twisted into an unruly angle, undoubtedly the side that he had landed on. Everything else seems to have stayed in place, though Warden will not admit the way the world still continues to spin or that stars now orbit his eyes. Even if he is concussed and with internal injuries he cannot see, he did not have time to go to the waterfall or find Wonder for healing - time was precious and as he finally staggered to his feet, the Watcher already had begun to notice the shift in the daylight.
Like the crescendo of an orchestra, the moon has now begun to make its way across the sun.
“We have to hurry,” he reiterates, unable to hide the frantic sound in his voice any longer. “Inland, where the lava flows.” Warden's voice is fractured, his dark eyes surrounded with red from broken blood vessels, hoping that she would not ask how he had come to know this information - only that she would realize she would perhaps be Svedka's only hope.
@[Wishbone]