There are some things you can only learn in a storm .

Cerauno clenched his teeth as the mare approached, yanking the branch out from his side. He felt the pain flash through his side, but welcomed it. This was real. He knew where the pain was coming from, and how to deal with it. There was no terror, no galloping in his sleep. He would take this over another night-terror any day.

He glanced at the shard as she dropped it, admiring how far in it had gone. He would have to be careful about keeping the wound clean. The last thing he wanted was an infection.
I didn't feel it going in but I definitely felt it coming out, he chuckled. Blood oozed from the wound but not at a frightening rate. It had started to heal at the edges, and removing the object had been enough to hurt but not enough to re-break all the blood vessels under his skin. It was going to leave another scar for sure though. He shrugged, his pelt rippling as he shook off imaginary flies. What was one more scar to add to his collection?
Then he realized something. He had wandered into the heart of the herd to seek out the inky mare, and not once had he worried about his face. His front. The burns that had always held him back. He was a little self-conscious now that he thought of it, but considering no one had said anything, he resolved to not let it bother him too much for now.

He followed the mare as she started to walk to the area she had described. A nice, secluded area to bathe seemed heavenly right now. He admired the scenery as they went, loosing himself in the serenity of the gentle path. He had never really given himself a chance to listen to nature without worrying about what the birds were trying to warn him about. When he was listening for approaching predators, he wasn't able to enjoy the trilling and beautiful songs that they used to attract a mate.

Say Faolain, he started, an inquisitive tone in his voice. What is your role here? He knew that she was the leader of the Ridge, but he wasn't quite sure what that entailed. There didn't seem to be too many predators or unhappy horses to placate, but he wasn't sure what kind of politics the area had in place.

As he waited for her answer, he started to document where they were, paying attention to the geography around him. If he were going to make this place his home, he was going to make sure that he knew every inch of it. Though it seemed relatively safe, he could never be too cautious. And in the case of an emergency, he would want to know exactly where everything was. Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe not.

His ears flicked forward as he heard the sound of the waterfall in the distance. As the pair continued to walk forward, the sound grew louder until they reached the small chute of water. As soon as he saw the area around it, he knew he had found his spot. Well, Faolain had shown it to him. He could see why not too many horses came here. It was close to an edge, and it was distanced from the rest of the herd. He loved it here though. It was beautiful, serene.

He smiled softly as he watched Faolain graze, then started to step towards the water. He didn't leave himself too much time to think before thrusting himself under the waterfall. The water was in fact, quite cold. He let out a quiet yelp as the water hit his open wounds, cleaning out the dirt and grime from the night before. The water didn't even have time to turn pink though before it was swept away by the current underneath him. He closed his eyes, and bent his knees, lowering himself into the water. He only submerged himself for a few seconds before surfacing again. The cold had robbed the breath from his lungs, but he had never felt so energized.

He turned, checking his coat and his legs. The wounds were pink and a little swollen, but otherwise clean. He took a quick look at his reflection before remembering how much he hated looking at his face. But the brief glance had been enough to affirm that he looked more or less presentable. Satisfied, he started to head out of the water. Drops dripped from his coat as he stepped towards the 'teke. He snorted playfully, bracing his legs against the ground before shaking himself off.

Once dry enough, he started to explore the area. Behind the waterfall was a slight path and a shallow cave. The waterfall was small enough that light managed to penetrate the curtain of water, and moss grew in soft, fluffy mats on the cave ground. He glanced into the little pool from the stream, and chuckled at tiny creatures within. He couldn't quite tell if they were bugs or fish, but they were quite amusing to watch. He followed the water, looking out over the land below him. It seemed to stretch on forever, filling his vision all the way until the horizon.

Following Faolain's earlier example, he dropped his head and took a few bites of grass, his lips picking through the blades. It was tough, but far from the worst he had had. He briefly thought about the harshest winter he had lived through in which he had to supplement his diet with bark from the nearby trees, competing with the local deer for what had become a precious resource. He resisted the temptation to drop and roll in the fresh grass. He had just washed things out of his cuts. No point in getting them dirty again.