The great white oak that had called Aldwyn out into the heart of the Barrens did not offer a guide on how to return through the desolate and unyielding landscape with a weakened and hungry foal. After calling and calling for the foal's parents and beseeching Grandfather Tree to give him some kind of guidance, Aldwyn had to accept that there was nothing to be done besides use his own wit. He knew he couldn't simply carry the youngster home, and he couldn't even be sure it had the energy reserves to make it back to Homewood... When was the last time it had eaten? Or had anything to drink?
There was no way to know the answer, but the young buck knew he couldn't risk the foal growing too tired to follow him or too disinterested such that it started doing something else. He couldn't risk galloping back to Homewood in search of energizing nutrients or a companion that might help him if it meant abandoning the foal for even a second to the elements of the Barrens or the possibility of predation.
And they needed to move quickly if the foal really had been alone for very long.
Steeled by the knowledge that there were no other options, Aldwyn wedged himself behind the young creature and gave it a nudge forward. It stumbled, forelimbs flailing out to catch itself from tumbling to the dirt. The foal was uncoordinated and trembling, but it did manage that much.
Aldwyn gave a tiny hum of encouragement, soft praise for being able to remain standing. But they had a long way yet to travel. "You can do it," he promised, touching his nose to the foal's back so that it would hopefully understand he intended to stay right behind him. They would move forward together, like this. And Aldwyn would nudge him back on track if ever the youngster wavered in his willingness to continue.
So they did. It was embarrassingly slow progress, with the foal fumbling and staggering at almost every step. Was it because of weakness from hunger or simply that it was too young to have properly found its footing yet? He didn't know. But if Aldwyn was too insistent with his pressures, he received a myriad of annoyed and dismayed bleats in response. Along the track, they managed to stumble across a few dried fronds of grass, and Aldwyn had hoped that even though it wasn't a quality meal, the fawn would realize that something was better than nothing.
But it expressed no interest or even recognition of what it was, and Aldwyn had to assume that it must have lived only on its mother's milk, up to this point.
He felt reassured of his initial assumption: a few days old, then, most likely.
And if it was only a few days old and already out in the Barrens, perhaps this was where it had been born. Perhaps it had never known Homewood because its mother had been exiled. Or maybe she'd been out performing her duties when the elements got her. Aldwyn sort of expected the former, though. The fawn barely knew what grass was, and no mother would have brought such a young infant out into the Barrens, even to tend to her duties.
Surely?
"We will get you home," Aldwyn assured as he gave the foal's backside a nudge. "And we will ask around. Someone must know. And if they don't, I will care for you. You'll like Homewood," he promised. "There is plenty of foliage, fresh running water, and so much shade! I'm sure you'll like the shade. The bedding is much more comfortable than anything you'll find out here. This is- it's... It's really quite lucky," Aldwyn said slowly. "A life in the Barrens is hardly a life at all. This'll be better. You'll be better."
He received a snort in response and a fluttering of the foal's ears as if they were wings, and Aldwyn wondered if it really did understand, after all...
A name. Should he give it a name? They still had a bit of distance to go, and it seemed almost impersonal to call such a young, blossoming creature 'the foal.'
"What do you think I should call you?" He offered as he trod slowly behind his new charge. "I thought you were some scavenging creature, at first," Aldwyn admitted. "With a pelt like the rust that grows upon the Others' machines. But no one wants to be named after the Others. That would be such a rude thing... Maybe Salvia or Dahlia or Bergamot. Those are plants, you know. Bergamot isn't a very pretty names, though. And Salvia and Dahlia sound quite a bit like girl names. You don't really smell like a girl."
The foal scoffed and gave a shake of its head. Aldwyn could just imagine him once he'd grown older, tousling his mane in the wind like that... "Bryony is a creeping plant. It can grow tall, with pretty, long, slender clusters. It's not red, itself, but it does have quite nice red berries. It's a bit of a doe's name too, but I won't tell, if you don't. Maybe Bry, Bry... Maybe Bri? No, no... I like it, though. Bryone. That sounds a little more masculine. Oh?"
Ahead of them, Aldwyn could see the shapes of trees coming into view, and the first scattering of growth was beginning to show. "Look at this now. We're almost home." He sucked in a breath, and suddenly feeling pleased that he'd made it and delighted at having received his gift and excited to learn what anyone may know of this fawn, Aldwyn blew out a breath, and with it hundreds of tiny spores. They plumed up in a cloud before him-
And Bryone took notice. The foal leaped after the densest of the cloud, and Aldwyn exhaled a rough breath to scatter it out before them.
They were both excited, then, and with the dispersion of the first threads of his magic, Aldwyn and Bryone set hoof in Homewood together.
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