[private] If you'll be my star, I'll be your sky

[Nashua]

Nashua had soared miles above the Isle.

He had flown up and down the coast, with his green eyes constantly turning towards the mainland. Ciri had been missing for days. Winter on Beqanna's furthest outpost was always quiet but the stillness that had settled with the first snowfalls had been full of tidings that wouldn't allow Nash to stand still. When he had been forced to land (either due to the frigid weather or fatigue), the striped stallion had nearly paced himself into exhaustion.

If something was wrong in Taiga, they would send word. The North was close-knit community - tied through blood and the hard trials they had faced over the years - and Nash was convinced if the problem was in either Nerine or Taiga, they would alert the Isle. And yet, the striped stallion can't help but watch the distant shores for a sign.

After nearly two days of this, the chestnut decided that at dawn he would fly to Taiga.

But there is no resting for him. He had tried but sleep evaded him. His mind was full of restless thoughts - was his family alright? Noel? Their children? - and so he responded by moving towards the southern edge of the island. There was the aurora above to keep him company - usually a sight that he found both comforting and astounding - but Nash ignored it. His wings were held tightly against his sides as he trekked along with his mind resolved to travel to Taiga.

The sound of a woman's muffled sobs stops him.
It's a sound that takes him back to his youth.

His glow brightens and his pale brow furrows in confusion. Turning his head towards the direction that he heard the sound of movement from, Nashua approaches. The winged horse continues to become brighter, allowing his light to illuminate a wider space around him than normal. A dark leg outstretched at an unnatural angle matched with another comes to light. Nash continues closer, recognizing the scars as belonging to the Thane of the Isle. "Ciri?" Nash asks, fighting off the storm cloud of anger brewing in his mind. One broken leg was an accident. Two was intentional and the chestnut brute battles back several rising questions.

He asks the most important first: "Will you let me help you?"

@Ciri

NASHUA