Shadowmist
Danth looks at Jokad as the barbarian stops his progress towards the horse. The creature is watching them, fear framing its face. A part of Danth wants to protest, but he realises that Jokad is probably correct about finding some water. The creature looks parched. While the Shoanti rushes back into the building on a mission, Danth moves quickly around the yard looking for some water.
The priest finds a stack of old pickle barrels in the corner of the yard, open to the air. Most are half full with scummy rain water. Not really the cleanest or healthiest thing for a sick warhorse. Then he spots one that is on its side and only a few inches full of much more recent water up to the edge of the exposed rim. It looks clean, and a quick sniff confirms this.
Jokad comes back holding a human sized metal helmet, all bashed and battered. He moves towards Danth and the men tilt the fallen barrel carefully to fill the helmet.
Jokad moves towards the horse, arms outstretched, brandishing the water. The horse is watching wearily, warily, sniffing the air as it smells the water. Jokad moves close, the horse shifts, but does not bolt. The whole time the ranger whispers, Danth offering calming words and open palms at his side.
They place the helmet into the mud, digging it in a little to keep it from falling over at the first bump. Then they move back a little. The horse snuffles forward slowly, driven towards the scent of the fresh rainwater. It dips the tip of its nose in and starts to drink hungrily. After finishing about half the water it knocks loose the water, licking the raw mud as the water seeps away. Danth edges forward, taking the helmet from the mud, and the two men return, refill, and start all over again.
It takes four fills, and an almost empty barrel, before the horse seems sated. It is calmer now, although clearly still exhausted.
Both Jokad and Danth move closer now. Offering their palms, the beautiful warhorses sniffs forward, sensing each man in turn. Jokad stands by its head, talking quietly, while Danth inspects the wounds. It is not really suffering from much in the way of physical damage from wounds, more just exhaustion, starvation, and thirst (Subdual damage), although at a severe level. Another day or two and it would probably have died.
There is little need for magic, Danth realises, and instead sets about finding some of the more decent food from the goblin's larder. Some moulded roots are the best he can find, but these seem to be very gratefully received.
Before you realise it, half an hour has passed, but the horse seems calm now, trusting even, and quite comfortable in your presence.
