Bucephalus Buceph watched with a sigh of disappointment as the first vine he kicked at collapsed onto the ground near the mare, with a loud thud. Her ears perked up and her expression turned sour as the vine fell onto the thick mud. He turns to face the mare as she quietly growls at him, “Well jeeze, don’t strain yourself." Her look grew more serious, almost angry, as he attempted to rescue her from the mud. At least he was even trying to help her in the first place – he could have very easily chosen to walk away, but he didn’t. Her neck stretched out from side to side as far as she could make it, fumbling and struggling to grasp the vine that he had pushed over to her. She finally grasped it after a few minutes. "Thank the gods." He paused for a moment, waiting to see if the young mare would be able to get out of the mud. Much to his surprise, she wrapped the vine around herself. She turned to face him and asked him if he could try to pull her out from the mud, wondering if she was caught in poison ivy or oak or anything poison. “I do not think you are caught in anything poisonous. However, I have not had that much experience with forest plants, so I do not know.” With that he started to move his head to grip the vine, biting down tightly on it. He pulled back, trying to help the mare out of the damned mud that had trapped her. At least this had gone somewhat well so far. Towards the Sun |