@mxstressmxstermind
Eridanus stepped gently through the underbrush of the field, Pestilence’s reins cold in his chilled fingers. White puffs escaped his bruised lips, but it was still a good day for him. He didn’t have to wear his bandages, his wounds kept relatively under control. Pestilence seemed to dance in place as he reached the road, coming to the warm little place he knew someone would be waiting.








