Érzelem

Silence stretched on forever. He was no doubt letting his mind wander. The fire had burned low and the fire keeper made no move to add more wood. The rain would soon come and extinguish the blaze anyway. The small flames cast an eerie light upon the pair of silent canines. Thunder rumbled, a little louder as it grew ever nearer. The breeze was chill, but it didn't bother Iolaire.

"Who heals the healer?" Soft tones finally broke the silence. It was a valid question. She kept her own council. She put forth a strong front because she needed to. One couldn't put their trust in some emotional twit, and yet she had been forced into being one. Her foot was nothing. A scratch that would heal. Her mind. Her heart. Those were things that needed the most healing. Since before she'd given up Deathbelle even, there had been a sore wound within the woman's heart. Different events had caused that wound to fester and rot.

Lightning flashed and thunder growled, illuminating the grassland ominously. This was the weather that Iolaire loved. Eyes closing, she raised her muzzle upwards, smelling the sweet smell of incoming rain. She couldn't wait to smell the petrichor after the rain had ceased to fall. Such a pleasant scent. In the meantime, they would continue to deal with the unpleasant situation.