They feared they may have waited too long. It had only made sense to wait and see what herd the usurpers would bring. After all they had started their coup in blood, the strong iron smell still seemed to linger in their nostrils even now. That should have been all the sign they needed really. The spirits were trying to tell them something. But, well, call it pessimism but Urzul needed to be sure they weren't about to find themselves culled. They knew how they appeared to many who had not lived as they had. Someone broken, someone helpless, someone weak. They weren't sure they could ever really regret making sure their own safety was first assured. But now?

Well now Urzul wanted more. More than a few of the herd's previous healers and spiritualists had trickled away, their stomachs too weak to handle the new power. More the fools them. Urzul would seize it instead. With Fetra hanging off their neck to help guide them Urzul moved confidently through the rolling hills they'd known all their lives. The lemur for her part was scanning the horizon, ready to guide Urzul towards Uruk the moment she spotted the Stallion.

The lightningstruck stallion moved silently through the familiar hills, the weight of his recent battles still heavy on his mind. The landscape around him was unchanged, but his thoughts were turbulent. The new power he had seized came with its own set of challenges, and the most recent had left him with a painful reminder - a cat claw embedded in his shoulder. It throbbed with every step, a constant reminder of the price of leadership.

He had not expected Urzul to be nearby, but Uruk had always respected Urzul's connection to the spiritual, even if he did not fully understand it himself. The blind one had chosen their time wisely, waiting until the right moment to seek him out; when he needed the aid of a healer.

As he crested a small rise, he spotted the unmistakable figure of Urzul moving through the hills, their lemur companion perched on their neck, eyes scanning the horizon. Uruk felt a strange sense of relief at the sight of them. Despite everything, there was something grounding about reuniting with a familiar face from his past, even if that face was unlike any other.

"Urzul," he called out, his deep voice carrying over the landscape. "It's been too long. I've brought you something that needs your touch."

The stallion moved closer, his powerful frame slightly hunched as the pain in his shoulder became more pronounced. Blood trickled from the wound, staining his dark coat as he approached and leaving bloody hoofprints in his wake.

As he waited for Urzul to begin, his attention shifted briefly to the sky, studying the weather patterns with a practiced eye. The clouds were heavy, hanging low in the sky like a dark curtain. They moved slowly, ominously, as if contemplating whether to release their burden of rain or hold it for another day.

Uruk could sense a storm brewing in the distance, its presence charging the air around him. The breeze, which had been gentle, was starting to pick up as it rolled over the hills, rustling the grasses and causing the leaves on the sparse trees to flutter nervously. The patterns were familiar, yet something about them felt different - perhaps it was a subtle shift in the wind's direction or the way the clouds seemed to gather more deliberately than usual.

For now, though, his focus returned to Urzul.

[ 1/3 Studied weather patterns ]

"Speech"

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