The Growing of Healers

Cleve breathed in deeply, savoring the solitude that lingered on the late afternoon breeze. “Oh, Black I wish we could stay out like this forever”. The mare beneath her sighed in agreement. “Alas, it is getting late, we should make our way back soon. We’ll come back here again, next time there is another quiet spell at the infirmary.” Black snorted, and kept walking. “Alright. I know you don’t want to go back. Neither do I. It is refreshing to be out of Lyssaenia for a change. Let’s walk a little more, shall we – to the top of the next hill. Then we really must go back, alright my Black?” The horse showed no objection to this, and continued heading toward the hill.
Cleve felt her heart sink a little as she reached the top. “The plane of Grindier really does go on forever. And I wish we had forever to traverse it.” The mare gave yet another sigh, then slowly began to turn. “Yeah,” Cleve groaned, “you know as well as I do we should be getting back.” Cleve gave one last sad look back as they made to head back down the hill towards home. But then something occurred to Cleve and she looked back again. A thought, an image lingered in her mind. A thing in need. “Wait, Black… Black take a look, do you see that, or is this just my weariness making a fool of my own eyes?” Black turned yet again and they both paused there, looking out. “It’s definitely there. Black it… it looks like a man… a man fallen in the middle of the plain in the distance. And there, I thought I saw him move.”