the ghost of a girl that i want to be mostthe shell of a girl i used to know well
He doesn’t remember anything. Camelia’s stomach drops in mingled dismay and fear. She wonders, for a flickering second, what it might be like to forget everything (the Gates, Mast, her parents, her children, her childhood, the tightly-woven blanket of memories that swaddle her personality). It almost causes her delicate ears to flatten against her skull, but she resists the urge of making an ugly face. Having no memories must be a scary thing and Camelia is prepared to provide the upmost comfort to this stallion, regardless of how many hurdles she must jump.
She is about to tell Sindor not to think too hard about what happened when a stallion arrives to say the same thing. The dunskin offers the other stallion – Hurricane, he introduces himself as – a sunny smile and nods toward him. “I’m Camelia.” Having just gotten back from a period of silence and wandering of Beqanna, she wouldn’t know that this winged stallion is the king of the Tundra. She would have, then, treated him with more respect compared to an equal. But nonetheless, her attention is again drawn by Sindor.
“You’ve already been forgiven,” Camelia says with another generous, bright smile. She continues to lean against his side, aiding him standing. His question about being alone causes her to hesitant. “I’m sorry, Sindor, but no one was with you when I found you. Don’t worry too much about it now; I’m here to help you.” She offers another one of her sunny, trademark smiles.
“Do you think you can walk enough to reach that creek over there?” Her head dips toward the slow-moving creek winding between a pair of trees. He must be thirsty (who knows how long he had been laying there?) and she could also help wash off the mud and inspect his cuts and scratches to determine how severe they are. Already, Camelia can think of a few herbs at the Gates that could drive away the possibility of infection, but the Gates is a long way away unless he decides to come with her.
She shoves away the habit of advertising for her kingdom and instead focuses on Sindor’s wellbeing. Her eyes turn toward Hurricane. “If Sindor needs help to the creek, would you mind taking his other side?” Motherly instinct swamps her and it happens to also turn her into a woman ready to use whatever means necessary to aid another, including delegating the resources.
camelia
