A plea for help

[Texas]

and I discovered that my castles stand

upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

The mare replies to Texas’ statement as though she hasn’t even listened to him, repeating that she’s from the Gates and adding more detail to the story of the sacking of the Gates. They really should be used to that now, Texas thinks, they never make it more than a few decades without being attacked and plundered.

It problem is not that Texas doesn’t believe her. He does; she’s clearly injured. The problem is that according to proper diplomacy he ca’nt help her even if he wanted to. The bay stallion already knows his is going to come back and bite him in the ass. No matter what he does there will be consequences, and several of them are likely to be unpleasant. She talks about freeing the Queen, which is a fool’s errand, but given that she’d planned on carrying water back to her kingdom in moss, this mare might be just the woman for the job.

She pleads and then, for whatever reason, lays down.

Texas glances up at the clear blue sky, mouthing a silent plea for patience, and then looks down at the mare on the ground.

“Just go get in the water at the base of the Falls,” he says, nudging her side with one dark hoof, prodding her in the direction of the water. “I’ll heal your injuries as best I can, but even if you could carry water in moss, it’s the waterfall that is magic, not the water itself.” He isn’t entirely sure that’s true, but it only makes sense. If not, anyone could divert the water into trenches and into their own kingdoms.

texas