Sandpiper smiled slightly at Crow. "The same to you... You should visit Osprey. Perhaps she has chamomile or some other soothing herb to calm you." Then, with a friendly nod to Crow, she disappeared into the brush without a sound.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dove was feeling achy and tired. She knew in the back of her mind she should request Osprey's assistance, but instead she wandered in the woods and soon came to the brook. She sank into the cool, flowing waters, letting them wash over her refreshingly. Closing her eyes, she dozed off into a half-sleep. She had been floating there gently in the water for several minutes when she was startled by a voice - and it was obviously not canine.
"Are - are you... alive?" said a deep, almost nasal, yet horsy voice. Dove's eyes snapped open and she turned her head towards the noise. Before her eyes was an emaciated horse, with a wet dappled gray coat. It wore a saddle, saddle pad, and halter. Two red saddlebags hung from it's back. The horse hung his head, his forelock brushing into his eyes. Dove rose out of the water and shook, spraying droplets of water everywhere.
"Who... who are you?" she asked, unsteadily. It had been years since she'd seen a horse at all, let alone a domesticated one.
"I am Grayfield," the horse replied. "My rider was shot off my back and I bolted, scared out of my wits. I feel as if I'm to blame. I keep trying to convince myself that it was an accident, that it was a hunter who thought my rider was a deer, but somehow I keep thinking it could be a murder." Grayfield shook his head. His damp mane flew. "But it doesn't matter anymore. That was a month ago. Since then, I've just been trying to survive." The horse chuckled weakly. "Only a horse in absolute desperation would put his life in a wolf's paws, but here I am. In desperation. Can you help me?" Dove looked uneasy.
"I'll have to ask..." she said. Dove was able to trot into the clearing near the herb den before her legs buckled and she collapsed in a heap.
