[open] at the final breath that is drawn

[bolder]

Bolder feels the ground beneath his hooves – and sinks them deep into the sandy the sediment – as he peers down into the darkness. There is somebody down there who is not alright, and the young stallion tenses. It settles between his shadowed shoulders where his wings rigidly sit as he contemplates what to do next. He had hoped to be back in Hyaline by now; the memory of the scars he saw on Malik’s neck only fueled that desire.

But despite the instinct that tells him to go – that the mare got herself into the River and she could get herself out – he begins to move down the riverbank. His upbringing wouldn’t allow him to just leave her there. He drifts to the side with his hind-end swinging out and eventually down to the River itself. A bath wasn’t preferential during this chill hour, but Bolder told himself it wouldn’t last long as he splashed in.

In and out, he reminded himself with each sloshing step he took towards the mare and her small stars. In and out, and then he would be on his way home.

”There are better places to hide from ghosts,” Bolder tells her when he finally comes within earshot. His wings are firmly clamped to his damp sides, doing little to keep out the still-too-crisp spring air. He could shift into something else, something more suited to the water and the cold, but what yet eludes him.
Would it scare her?

”A cave might suit,” he continues to talk and then the young stallion glances up at the dim lights surrounding them. Those might be harder to conceal. ”How do you feel about trees? I can show you a nice, dry hollow.”

@Nostromo