HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T;

Oh, my tongue's the only muscle in my body that works harder than my heart Korri continued to watch, but she was very obliging, this mare. His small ears remained up, trained on the sound of her voice, as she explained about the Portal. He lacked the mental acuity to really process the information, but he hoped some of it would stick for later reflection. It seemed he was, indeed, very far from home... He tried to think back, but all he remembered was the noise of water, the roaring like some great beast. He had almost believed the goddess Herself was present.... but maybe She had been. Maybe that was why he was here. He sighed, headache grinding the turn of his thoughts to a standstill. He could consider it later. He did wonder, briefly, what the mare meant by changes, though he supposed she had just explained what became of his armor. Later, maybe, he would mourn the loss of the gift. The only gift anyone had ever given him. It seemed a small loss to him then, however, cold and wretched as he was, lowered to accepting help from an absolute stranger, bare-shouldered and horned though she was. His eyes flicked briefly to the wound upon her chest, to the strange metal glinting along her spine, but he didn't think much of either detail as he noticed them. She was speaking again. Answering his other questions. Kiada. Her name was Kiada; important. Korri's head nodded automatically. Some remnant of his personality seemed to be running still on autopilot despite the crumbling wreck he'd become internally. "Kiada," he repeated. A faint, weary smile touched his features. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He paused, glanced only so briefly at Khairi. Again that stab of frustration, the brief flare of anger hot in his heart. "Both of you," he said all the same, his tone only wavering the slightest bit. She spoke of magic, and he forced out an abbreviated laugh, hoping she meant it as a joke. "I'm certain I'll dry." Surely it didn't rain all the time, here? He was almost afraid to ask. He fell silent as she explained about the plant, and about her abilities. Too exhausted to offer input. But he turned his head and blinked at the trees as the bird flew down to help her. It was too much. He wanted to call for Auga again, as if wanting could make the situation reverse. He found himself wondering a little bitterly why he'd flown at all. Why he hadn't just.... But Kiada's voice pulled him from his melancholy thoughts, and he blinked at her once more. It was reminiscent of an old man roused from the beginnings of slumber, that blink. "Ah," said Korri, his ears coming forward again. "Thank you. You're very kind." He supposed he hadn't much choice but to take the herb and hope it didn't burn his skin off or something else unpleasant. His limbs protesting, he walked stiffly over to where she had prepared it and slowly extended his neck downward. Inhaled. It didn't smell poisonous, but rather pleasant. Good news at last. Ignoring her last statement, he smeared some of the stuff against his upper lip and craned his neck back to apply it to the freshest scrapes and gashes. She was correct — it did sting — but soon the sting mellowed out into a cool, soothing sensation. Finished save for the wound on his forehead, Korri turned back to her. "I'm not accustomed to being greeted with such kindness," he said, a little puzzled. Were he in better condition, he knew he would be concerned about her motivations, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. She had mentioned a herd; he wondered how friendly the others were. Wondered if he was really pathetic enough to ask them for shelter. No; no. He had gotten this far on his own wits (and Auga's). He should go before he found himself trapped. "Well," he said, and blinked ruefully at the trees. "I suppose I should be going — Ah! I'm sorry!" He turned suddenly back to her. "I didn't introduce myself, did I? I apologize. It's been a.... long day for me." Or week. Or month. "My name is Korri. Just... Korri." He sighed, allowing the implication to hang in the air. Of no relation to anyone important. From nowhere you've heard of. "I don't wish to impose on you any further, so I suppose I'll get going. Perhaps my own companion is out there somewhere."

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