G A R E T H
He follows her to the ground as she settles, making sure that she’s situated on the softest surface he can before carefully stepping back. Her two pups take his place, nestling into the dens created by her ribs (so thin, so thin) as they must have done countless times before. Her companion, a sloth he thinks, eyes him warily as he moves to nestle into her mane. The creature must be a bonded, similar to his Noor. There is a measure of intelligence in his eyes as he watches the stallion, a sense of protection that he feels mirrors that of his own stag. The pups are companions in how any animal can find a home if they are friendly enough, but the sloth is entirely different. He offers them plenty of space, maneuvering his girth so that Noor can come in close with his water-cupping antlers.
“It’s alright,” he chuckles lightly. “I’ve seen many things, and you don’t look nearly as bad as I’m sure you’re feeling. I’m just glad I happened to be here to help.” He smiles gently, and it almost reaches his eyes, but it is a practiced smile, the one of a professional. Guarded, polite, but not quite invested.
The stag moves to take the place of his draft friend, kneeling down oh so carefully. He spills only a little, but there is plenty of moss and lichen and the majority of the sweet liquid is contained as he settles within her reach. He does not lean out to her immediately, but instead waits for her to indicate her desire for the water. Should she make a motion or mention of it, he would crane his neck and bring the chalice to her. He casts a glance to his stallion friend, his bright eyes concerned.
"She does not look healthy, Gareth. Do you think she should be traveling in this heat? Should we bring her back to the hovel?"
The stallion looks back over the mare, taking in her appearance. Noor was right- she was not healthy, far from it, it would seem. It would be better for her to get out of the heat, and she clearly knew that herself. But would she trust the stranger she just came across? Even if he was a medic, words are simply words, and he was unsure if he could convince her companion that he had the best of intentions. He took a breath, and then shifted his pistons, moving to lay near to her.
“And you are correct, I am. My home is not far from here. If you still have a long way to travel, I would like to offer you shelter, if only until you feel well enough to make the distance.” There is no sense of urgency or pressing obligation in his tone, though he does hope that she takes him up on it. She’s in no condition to traverse anything more than a few feet, and he fears that even after a long rest she may not be able to reach whatever her destination may be if she does not take a full night at least to recover.
