From War comes Peace | Fionn x Sinclair

The rainwater and mud were soaking his already drenched coat as he tried to get up again. Fionn clenched his teeth stubbornly, willing his legs to carry him again, but two large, bleeding gashes held him back from doing so. In the midst of finding another battling partner he had, in the end, been caught off guard after all. He was currently cursing himself for his own carelessness. He had been able to fight off the other horse, but the effort had in the end proved too great for his legs to handle and they kept on shivering and quirking while he tried to get up to fight again, like he was longing for so much.
He growled and snarled from frustration, slipping away again and again away while trying to ignore the rapid pain pules that were shooting through his body as the adrenaline from his last battle was starting to run out, no longer holding the sharp edges off of the pain.

He looked up when a red figure neared him. He immediately curled his lip up showing his bloodied teeth, ready to fight still –without his legs if he had to- but then dropped his aggressive stance when the mare started talking to him in a friendly fashion. Completely thrown off by the almost careless way the mare spoke to him he reared his head back in distrust, watching as she started laying out different herbs.
He felt like saying he was fine, because he hated accepting help from others. But he realised that if he wanted to keep fighting for his herd at his best, he would have to trust the mare. Besides, she was a Bachelors brood. Technically this was her job. It was with great reluctance though that he uttered the word “Legs” –trampling all over his ego while doing so.
He looked at her, all soaked by the rain as well. “A battlefield is no place for a mare..” he grumbled darkly, still hating the fact that he wasn’t currently locked in some fight or another. His blood was still boiling and his thirst for revenge was far from quenched.

Fionn watched as the mare started pulverizing some berries before applying them to his wounds, silence falling between them. He had never bothered to study herbs or their healing effects, being way more focussed on the ways to inflict wounds on others instead of learning how to cure them. A stinging sensation went through him when she put the berries on the gashes, but it was a good kind of sting. A ‘clean’ kind of pain, if he were to put words to it. He guessed that whatever she used may be a disinfectant herb.

When he felt her eyes on him his own swept from the gashes on his legs to meet her gaze. He looked into two bright green orbs, black strands of hair falling around them, framing a slender nose and a coat the hue of the red earth that could be found on riverbanks. He guessed it would be a bit lighter when dry though. His attention snapped back when she stood and talked to him again. He stared for a second, still a bit thrown off by her way of speaking and maybe also by her calling him 'bumblebee', which wasn't an everyday occurrence because he -let's face it- wasn't the most bumbly bee in the crowd. Then one of the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly. His expression, before blank save for the hint of frustration at not being able to fight for a while, now got a lightly amused look to it when she spoke about the Olde. He'd fight them: he'd make them doubt the existence of their one-horned saviours.

He flicked an ear, not wasting any more time as he tried to stand on his legs again. To his amazement the quivering of his legs had stopped and he was able to put his weight on them without them caving in in a second. His wounds still hurt, but he could deal with pain: Pain belonged to the Bachelor life as much as the X on his head. When he stood again, now facing her properly, he thought for a moment before dipping his head slightly in respect. She had fixed him up after all and he was grateful for that. "Thank you," he said gruffly but earnest. "What is your name?" he then asked. He hated being in someone's debt, so he would make sure that if ever the occassion arose he would be able to settle the score.

[Aghh sorry about the late reply! >.<]

He honestly did not know how to react on some of the things she said, finding himself kind of..baffled? By her casual way of speaking to him. First ‘bumblebee’ now ‘sunshine’, what was up with that anyways? He couldn’t remember a day that anyone called him by any other name than Fionn. She turned back to him and told him her name, labelling it as ‘trivial’. “I wouldn’t ask if it was.” Sinclair, hm? He narrowed his eyes, a habit of his, while he watched her walk off. He’d remember the mare, he unconsciously found himself somehow intrigued by her. Her spirit didn’t seem broken by the Bachelor life to him, though looks could deceive he knew.

Again he found himself surprised by her when she turned and thanked him, though he was careful not to show it. He did not know in what way he could have helped her, so he just looked at her and nodded once. “Fionn.” He held her gaze for a second longer. “Don’t die today, Sinclair. I’d like to settle the score sometime.” He owed her something, after all. That was all there was to it, he decided for himself. He at last turned around. His gaze fell on the war playing out before his eyes, and he sprang away in search of a new target. His appearance was soon veiled by the dark of the night. For a little while longer he thought of his encounter with the red mare as he sped over the field. Then he was taken over by the rage of war again, and all thoughts except for those of blood fled from his mind.