oh the misery

It seemed he wasn’t the only one injured. When the weary yearling turned towards him, he caught the twinge of pain as she settled her stance. His eyes glanced down to her leg, but he couldn’t see an injury there. Too stable for a break, a sprain, perhaps? His eyes moved back to her face as she spoke. Catching the almost war-like paint beneath her eyes.

He grimaced when he registered her question, his own injuries shown in the brilliant bruise across his forehead, and the stitches in his shoulder. “Yes.” He agreed, pausing a moment and then nodding his nose towards her. “You’ve been in a tussle yourself?”

"Basilisk"