Blacktail Deer Plateau the swelling of broken violins

He was a writhing thing, akin to a fish that found itself unceremoniously thrown to land at the behest of a wolf’s ivory teeth. Olive watched his for a moment’s postponement, her cream figure smudged and concealed by the shadows of a distant treeline. He shrieked and cried, throwing his small body about in a visually disturbing manner. Never before had Olive seen an animal act in this manner [that was not in the throes of death] and the sprite found herself fascinated. But it was a lurid interest that quickly manifested itself as sorrow and heartbreak for the broken boy.

What caused him to anguish so? The woman was thrust forward with a sudden resurgence of empathy and strode up to his side, moving slowly and fluidly in hopes of not frightening him. 

“Beloved, what ails you so?” Olive exclaimed softly as she rounded nearer to him, traveling lightly on her feet. As she strode ever closer, the harlequin noticed that he was no larger than her own petite frame and his fur was matted with tears. He looked not only in spiritual pain, but something physically ailed him too. “Center your soul within your body; listen to your breaths and feel your lifeblood flow through your veins, uninhibited and free. You are here in this moment, and in this moment nothing cruel can touch you.” The fae whispered instructions to him in earnest, wishing to abate this creature’s obvious pain.