Dawnlark Plains never thinking for just one second, she would take a different attraction

her brow twists a bit, even through the hurt. something self-deprecating bit at her tongue, but she forced it away, offering a tiny nod and a twist of her muzzle. she was still as he worked, standing motionless as he began to apply the poultice to the lacerations. the hurt pounded in rhythm to her heart, but she asked only, "how long?" it was extraordinarily unlikely that she'd rest anywhere near the time that it would take to have the cuts heal, and she was certain she could cut whatever time Sebastian gave her in half.