It was early morning and there was a biting chill whenever the wind blew. The autumn leaves were now falling quickly from the trees, soon the branches will be bare and the snow will arrive within a matter of weeks. Gently Alpenglow picked a stray leaf from the ground that had fallen into her garden. Yes, she had made herself a little garden. This was a secretive little patch in the meadow sheltered from the elements by shrubs and a few trees. Afterall a healer needed a reliable supply of herbs if they were going to do their job effectively. She had put a lot of work into this project and she hoped her plants had established themselves enough over the last few months to survive the winter. Blue eyes lifted from her allotment and her nostrils wrinkled. There was a sour smell in the air. That was the nauseating smell of an infected wound. Slowly the painted mare followed the trail. There was caution in her steps. If she could smell this then there was a possibility that a predator had as well. No hungry beast was going to turn down the opportunity to take down an injured horse. Eventually she finds the source of the foul smell, a blue roan painted stallion, a mustang like herself. There was a hint of familiarity about him, he almost resembled one of her family members, but to her knowledge she was the only one of her kind here. He seemed to be in a daze and Alpenglow understood why when she spotted the wound obscured by his long black mane on the back of his head. His injuries didn’t appear to be fresh but they certainly weren’t healing well. The poor creature must have been suffering like this for some time. “You don’t look too good,” she whispered in a tone that may have come across as somewhat unsympathetic but her brow was furrowed in concern. Slowly she approached him and did her best to appear unthreatening. Head wounds could make a patient unpredictable and some may even resort to violence in their confusion. “Can you hear me?” She asks tilting her head to one side with curiosity, “What happened to you?”
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