You're a diamond, dear

Eira... The rain fell steadily down upon her dense, overgrown coat, drumming a constant rhythm against every huff and puff as Eira fought fiercely against the odds, to rescue the coloured caterpillar from the jaws of untimely death. No creature, she felt, deserved to suffer an end as cruel as she imagined suffocation to be. As she endeavoured awkwardly backwards, slipping frequently over slippery lichened-logs, and treading only once on the screaming surface of a mossy rock, the ambitious filly pinned a watchful, kind-hearted eye upon her patient - still it failed to move. Waves of disheartenment threatened to interrupt her effort, but until the vulnerable little creature was safe (whether or not it passed during the process), she just couldn’t abandon it to the will of Drench. “Vy?” Quickly she glanced beneath the weeping veil of the Glow Cherry’s leaves. She could not see her friend nestled there beneath in the raised nest they had built, and snorting softly in dismay, Eira’s thumping heart sank. Her narrow, pink chin dipped back towards the ground, to the leaf within who’ s cup the water was now pooling - the worm remained unmoving. “Vy?” Her quiet mind called still more desperately, for his beautiful ability to tend to broken skin might be able to also fix this life. No matter the strain of her willpower, the painted colt failed to appear through the forest surrounding and the young filly sighed dismally. Carefully she pulled the little creature in its boat (water gushed from the sides with each jerk) until it was safely perched in the snag of a broken rock, well above the flurries of rising flood water below; overhead, a thick arm of leafy timber acted as an awning. “You will be safe with me,” she thought sombrely, smiling softly, still clinging to the vain hope that it might only be sleeping. As her petite blue skull began again to lift, a strange sight caused her to hesitate and the breath ready expel, stuck fast in her long throat. A small flower, nay, the delicate bud of powder-soft dandelion seeds, was perched (still intact), upon a leaf near the level of her withers. She’d not noted anything of the sort growing among the scattered stones and fernery of the rainforest, and cast a quizzical eye across it's she stepped a little nearer. It did look rather like the seed pod she knew well - only - nostrils found themselves beside it, and gently, very carefully (so as not to blow it free altogether), the breath she’d been holding unleashed upon it. @Rift Presence   (Note: She spots the tuft upon the leaf near eye level and blows very softly at it) "I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden