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Modera made her way along the the treeline of the great forest, looking out at the meadow beyond. It was a simple view, to put it mildly; a large, grass-filled expanse of space with nothing to remark on, except its unremarkability. Soquili might stop there to graze, or to run, but they would then pass on by without the meadow itself making any effect on their minds, any impression on their memories. And how wonderful that was!

She stopped, leaning her cheek against the smooth bark of a birch tree. It was an unremarkable view, yes, but for those in the know, that very unremarkability was something to celebrate. In this meadow, not too long ago, one of the last great battles of the Kalona war had been fought. Then, the meadow had been a horror show, full of the dead and dying. Modera had been one of many healers who had tried to restore the injured and bring peace to the dying; it had been an experience Modera would never forget.

She had fought no battles herself, but the experience had been trying to her in both body and mind. She, along with many other unicorns, had pushed herself past the point of stopping in their efforts, and had suffered terrible headaches, sleeplessness, and anxiety. She had been haunted by the faces of those she could not save, and second guessed her own dedication and abilities.

But time can be a great healer, as can good company. It had been a while, but she finally had felt ready to face this field again. She had been half afraid of what she would feel, what she would remember, but what she felt instead was...peace.

Modera was intent on her musings, but not to the point that she lost track of her surroundings. She'd been a fortunate mare in that she'd never been in a dangerous situation; she'd never been in a fight, or a victim of attack. But she'd seen more than her share of the darker side of life, and she knew that as a single mare with no companions, she could pose an easy target for..unscrupulous types.

So went she heard the sudden sharp rustling of branches, she pulled abruptly away from the birch tree, glancing about her with curious eyes. There was no one there, no one she could see anyway, but that didn't mean there wasn't anyone there. Stepping away from the tree, she craned her neck about, looking in the direction of the noise. Still nothing. Frowning slightly, she called out, "Is anyone there?"

It might be nothing; the noise might just have been an animal scampering off into the underbrush. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry...

For a long, awkward moment after asking her question, Modera felt completely exposed. For another moment, she felt foolish, awkwardly so, as though she was speaking to nothing. But after another moment passed, the soft, hesitant voice of the other mare set Modera's mind at ease. Of course she wasn't being foolish, she was being practical, prudent; and one must always be prudent in the woods. That was a minor consolation, as she could now see that the Soquili who had given her the jitters was a rather slight black and gold mare.

Still, she settled herself as best she could, giving the other mare a warm smile. "Hello; I didn't mean to force you out, or anything like that. I just heard you moving, and after everything that's happened around here..." She paused, realizing she was rambling, and broke off. "I just don't really like the idea of being taken unawares, that's all. Thank you for indulging me in my nosiness."

It honestly never occurred to Modera that the other mare might have her own concerns, that she had no idea of the place’s grim history. For Modera herself, the experience had been so stark and startling, the impressions too heavy in her mind, that she took it for granted that every other Soquili who might come by would also be aware of the history and share her sentiments. So when the other mare said she couldn’t blame Modera for her concern, she took that to mean that the other mare was also familiar with what had happened here and was also skittish as a result of that history. Having a sympathetic soul was an encouraging thing, and it helped bolster her spirits even farther.

So she was able to regain her composure and her dignity as they spoke, her natural assertiveness and confidence once again moving to the fore of her emotions. At the other mare’s comment about viciousness, Modera blinked, then laughed lightly as she shook her head, dismissing the very idea with the gesture. “No, I am most certainly not vicious, though I will not deny I can be very forceful of spirit when I feel I must be. But physical violence or cruelty of any sort is abhorrent to me.” She paused, cocking her head at the other mare’s reference to a ‘walker’ as she added, “and I would hope that the spirits would have mercy and strike me down before I would be turned into one of those abominations. No, I am just me; a unicorn in general, and Modera, in particular. That is to say, my name is Modera. But are you alright?”

Modera herself had been skittish, yes, but as she calmed down, it seemed that the other mare revved up. Or remained revved up? Either way, she seemed a bit on edge. “Please don’t think me intrusive for asking, I just…I’m a healer, you see, and I like to be of any help I can.”

It was true that Modera had been able to tell the other mare was skittish, but it wasn’t until she emerged from the protection of the greenery that Modera gained an inkling as to why. At the sight of the multiple healing wounds, which appeared to be in the ugliest of the scabby stages, Modera had to fight back an urge to gasp. It was true that she had seen numerous fresh wounds that were bigger, bloodier, and more stomach-churning, but the mare…Crisiant…was just so small and had such a timid air that they seemed every bit as gruesome as the worse battlefield wound. And to think, she had been attacked by a skinwalker; as though having Kalona in the region wasn’t bad enough!

Modera was able to stifle the gasp, but couldn’t hide the sympathetic widening of her eyes or the pained expression on her face. She might have started to move on from the battlefield, but her newly awakened healer’s drive was not going into retirement as easily. Slowly, she stepped towards Crisiant, her pale blue eyes running over the mare’s wounds. “You poor girl, no wonder you would be cautious, having to face a situation like that. I’m amazed and pleased you were able to get away; I’ve never met one, and I hope to never do so, but one hears such stories…” She trailed off, shaking her head with a slight shudder. This was an unnecessary conversation, and she was no doubt making the mare relive things she’d rather not! Obviously her bedside manner still needed work.

Rapidly, she changed the subject, giving Crisiant a slight smile. “They look like they’re making progress on your own, but I’d be happy to run my horn over them, or even just a few of them, if you’d like.”

Well, Modera didn’t really know what to say to that. Sure, she had seen a lot of gruesome sights before the war had ended, but she had no personal experience with a situation like Crisiant’s; she couldn’t even begin to comprehend the horror of being attacked, or the aftereffects on the psyche. In this situation, any response seemed like it would be trite or contrived; the last thing she needed to do was to add insult to injury. So rather than run the risk of saying the wrong thing, she merely nodded her head as she stepped up to the smaller mare’s side.

With an analytical eye, she examined the scabby wounds. She’d thought they were all covering over, but a closer examination showed that some of the wounds were deeper than she’d first realized, the scabs almost gaping in an effort to keep the cuts covered. Once again, Modera started to purse her lips, the expression of concentration and attack too much a part of her to even think about. Like all unicorns, her endurance and healing powers had limits; still, the fact that the wounds were older and not currently gushing blood was a good thing. Their age would diminish the aid she could provide; she knew of no unicorn who was capable of removing scars. Still, they were open wounds…

She should be able to do this, she thought with a firm nod of her head. As gently as she could, she said to Crisiant, “You might feel a eating or tingling sensation where my horn touches you, but that’s normal. I hope I can help with some of these deeper ones; I’ll see what I can do about the rest. Just try to relax.” With that, she closed her eyes in concentration and touched her horn to the largest of the wound sites, channeling her healing energy down the horn and into Crisiant.

Modera's eyes remained closed, her mouth set in an expression of deep concentration. She could feel the energy coursing down her horn, but a slight twitch of her lips was the only sign of her satisfaction she allowed herself to show. This felt right to her; healing was her realm, and she was once more the queen. How could she have ever thought that there was nothing for her in the traditional role of a unicorn?

After a few minutes, she opened her eyes to check the progress of her healing. It was looking promising; the largest wound, the one she had been focusing on, appeared to be smooth and solid; no longer a gaping hole, but a firm piece of flesh. Time to move on. Closing her eyes, she once more touched her horn to Crisiant's back, but this time began to run it very gently down along her side and back. "This seems to be going very well; you must have taken good care of your wounds for them to be healing this easily." Though it would have been nice to be able to take all the credit for the healing, Modera couldn't deny the obvious role Crisiant herself had to have played in their care.

She just wished there was something she could do about the non-physical wounds. Having never been in any combat herself, she had no idea what the mare must have suffered emotionally and mentally from the attack; but she knew it couldn't have been slight.